


The Corpse Groom

by Dragonsploosh



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-02-17 17:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13081389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonsploosh/pseuds/Dragonsploosh
Summary: 'That skeletal hand gave a test wriggle, and the strange man gazed down at the wedding ring with a curious expression on his face. "I do," he said.'An AU based on Tim Burton's 'Corpse Bride.'





	1. Chapter 1

"Smile."

Ciel blinked, pulled from his reverie by the gentle voice. He'd been staring listlessly out of the carriage window for hours, just watching the grey English countryside roll by, and only now did he notice his mother staring at him with concern.

"Smile, Ciel," Rachel continued. "This should be a happy day for you."

Ciel swallowed the lump that had been building in his throat for most of the journey." _Happy_ ," he repeated, bitterness thick in his tone.

The boy's father, Vincent, didn't seem to have picked up on the mood. He lowered his newspaper, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Ahh, to be young again. I remember when your mother and I were due to be wed. Did I ever tell you how I managed to sneak away the night before the ceremony, all the way to the East Wing where Rachel's entire family were staying and -"

"Vincent!" Rachel snapped, elbowing her husband and looking a bit pink in the face. "This is about _Ciel's_ wedding, not ours."

"Right, of course," Vincent agreed, waiving one black-gloved hand obligingly.  "And I'm sure the day will go just as smoothly for him, nothing to worry about."

Something snapped in Ciel; it could have been the casual way his father spoke, or the way his mother expected him to smile like this was all a big treat. " _At least you got to choose who you might wed_ ," he snarled.

There was icy silence for a moment within the carriage.

"I thought we were past this," said Vincent quietly. The jovial tone had gone from his voice.

Ciel recognised the danger - his father was an accomplished leader and a great role-model, but nobody ever talked back to him. The boy set his jaw in defiance. "I just don't understand why -"

"Your brother understood."

"My brother isn't here," Ciel retorted.

"No, he is not. And that is why you must take up his mantle, as the sole heir to the Phantomhive name. It should be a privilege, to take on the role of Earl."

 "I just don't see why I need to marry Elizabeth _now_." Ciel persisted, changing tactic. "Can't it at least wait a few years?"

It was Rachel that answered this time. Her voice was softer, but the message was still the same. "Our families need to merge, Ciel. This has been the plan from the start, you know that."

' _Almost the plan_.' Ciel thought bitterly. It had been his brother that was meant to wed their cousin, not him. He barely even knew the girl. Ever since his twin's death a year ago, all the responsibilities of the future Earl had fallen to him, including this marriage.

"Phantomhive's never go back on their word," Vincent said firmly. He looked at his wife and something seemed to pass between them. "That's why everything -"

She nodded. "Every last little thing -"

"Must go according to plan," he finished.

Their tone was final. This wedding was happening, whether Ciel wanted it to or not.

***

Midford Manor looked different to how Ciel remembered it. As the carriage pulled into the forecourt, the boy peered curiously out of the window and up at the vast mansion. He hadn't visited for a while - family visits had grown sparse in the time since his brother's death, and it seemed a lot had changed in that time. Where once there were rolling lawns and bright flowerbeds, now there was gravel. The grass that bordered it was thick with frost, and it certainly wasn't the neatly trimmed affair that Ciel was used to.

The Phantomhive's coachman helped the family from the carriage, bowing politely before going to see to the horses. Ciel and his parents made their way unescorted up the few stone steps to the front door, where Vincent took the large bronze knocker in gloved fingers and rapped smartly at the wood.

They didn't have to wait long. The door creaked open on slightly rusted hinges to reveal the grand entrance hall, the Midford butler, Emil, greeting them politely as they made their way inside. Coats were taken despite the lingering chill, and Francis and Alexis Midford descended the central staircase wearing what looked like their most formal attire.

"Good afternoon. I trust that your journey was favourable?"

"Sister," called Vincent merrily, though Alexis was the one to bound forward to greet them.

"There's my nephew!" He said exuberantly, pulling Ciel into a one-armed hug. The boy was always taken aback by his uncles enthusiasm, and he didn't even return the gesture before Alexis was hugging both Vincent and Rachel, crinkling his suit in the process.

" _Alexis_ ," Francis hissed. Unlike her husband, she wasn't very keen on what she termed 'improper behaviour'. She turned to her brother and sister-in-law, ignoring Ciel completely, and inclined her head. "We'll be taking tea in the Dayroom," she announced formally.

"Excellent," Vincent replied. "I'm parched."

The adults all started to make small-talk about the weather (it had started to snow) and the Midford's Christmas decorations (a sparsely decorated tree in the corner which Rachel proclaimed as "lovely.") The four all started to make their way towards the Dayroom as they spoke, though Ciel lingered behind, certain that no one would notice his absence. They didn't.

Alone, Ciel peered more closely around the entrance hall. It seemed bigger than his last visit; everyone had still been in their black mourning clothes then, and he'd spent the day in the music room, away from everyone else. He hadn't even spoken to Elizabeth that day - it hadn't occurred to him, back then at the age of seventeen, that he'd be marrying her just a year later.

Family portraits still lined the walls, a vase of lilies set on a round table next to the staircase, but otherwise there was very little in the way of furniture. Ciel remembered a grand piano taking up the space by the far wall, a massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, but both were now gone. Instead there was a simple candelabra, and the piano had been replaced with another instrument. Beneath the portrait of his own family rested a small violin, the bow laying across the strings in a facsimile of a cross. The violin had once belonged to Ciel's brother.

He peered up at the portrait as he approached; it depicted a happier time, where all four Phantomhives smiled back at him, his twin wearing an identical outfit to himself. He picked up the violin reverently, touching the fine maple neck and losing himself in memories. Ciel was always the least skilled of the two when it came to music. Still, that didn't stop him from raising the bow and positioning the instrument, playing a tremulous note and listening to it linger.

He drew the bow across the strings again, as if in a trance, and soon found himself playing a melancholy tune, one of his own composition. His fingers were quick, the notes true, and it almost sounded as good as his brother. Almost.

"You play beautifully," came a voice from behind him.

Ciel almost dropped the violin.

"Elizabeth!"

There she was, looking exactly the same as the last time he'd seen her, yet somehow everything was different. Her hair was pulled back, the usual blonde ringlets tamed into a high bun, and her dress was formal but fashionable. The usual bright colours she preferred had been traded for a more pastel tone, the pale pink of it making her look older. More grown up.

"In view of the circumstances," she said, "it might be more fitting that you call me 'Lizzie'."

"Lizzie. Of course."

Lizzie had been his brother's name for her. The word tasted like ash in Ciel's mouth.

"I'd always dreamed of my wedding day," Lizzie said wistfully, gazing up at the portrait. "Of walking down the aisle in my mother's dress. Of all the guests smiling - _him_ waiting for me. Silly, isn't it."

"Yes, silly," Ciel replied. " _No_ \- I mean, not at all." He set the violin back on the ground, feeling stupid. "This just isn't how any of us imagined it."

"I suppose we should make the best of it then."

Ciel glanced at her and was horrified to see tears threatening to overflow, her lower lip quaking. They hadn't even gotten married yet and already he'd managed to upset her.

"Indeed - that is to say, I'm sure it will be fine." As if _'fine'_ was an adequate way to describe a marriage. Ciel mentally kicked himself. "So, uhh," he went on, trying to diffuse the conversation. "Do you still play piano?"

"Not of late," Lizzie replied, clasping her hands in front of her. "I've been busy with fencing practice. Mother says that one must be steady with the sword - calm. Music is far too emotional."

Ciel wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. "Ah. And how is fencing?"

She looked away, her face going slack. "It was going well for a time - the Queen was even considering me to become part of her personal guard. I would have been the first woman to ever serve royalty in such a way, but it wasn't to be. There have been so many misfortunes in our family lately, such terrible-" she cut herself off, eyes widening. "I'm sorry - that was insensitive."

"It's quite alright," Ciel said, inclining his head. "I couldn't help but notice -"

He was cut off before he could finish that thought, Francis's thundering voice echoing around the room.

" _What impropriety is this_!"

Lizzie took a guilty step back as the four adults came into sight, Francis leading the charge.

"No chaperone! Where's Paula?!" The woman snapped, fixing her gaze on her daughter.

"I just -"

"You just _nothing_ , young lady! Now, back to your room - we have a rehearsal to prepare for, and everything must go according to plan."

***

The rehearsal took place that evening. Ciel barely had time to change out of his travelling clothes and into a tailored suit picked out by his mother; the subtle lines of the expensive charcoal-grey fabric accentuated his slim figure, the colour making his smoky hair look darker and more refined. His cravat was a dusky blue that made his eyes stand out, or so he was told, but he didn't care about any of that. As the carriage pulled up in front of the church, it rather felt like he was arriving at his own funeral.

They were greeted by a small gathering of guests who had arrived early to make the most of the holiday. With the wedding to be held on Christmas Day, two days from now, the crowd was abuzz with merriment. Ciel's heart sank when he realised there'd be almost twenty people witnessing the rehearsal, though that paled in comparison to the expected turnout of the actual day.

"Ciel!" Someone called, and the boy was almost knocked off his feet as someone barrelled into him.

"Argh! Get off!"

"My friend, I'm so happy for you," a familiar voice sobbed next to his ear.

Ciel managed to extract himself in an almost-dignified manner, rearranging his cravat and directing a scowl at Soma.

"At least _someone's_ happy," he muttered, before spotting the Prince's butler behind him and inclining his head. "Hello Agni," he said, slightly louder.

"May the great God Ganesha bless and watch over you in this joyous time," Agni replied, smiling.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Ah, Ciel," said another voice, two new faces joining them. "Good to see you."

"Grey. Phipps," Ciel greeted, noting with some curiosity that there was a small chicken on Phipps' shoulder.

"Sorry to hear about our Lizzie not making the Guard. Still, no hard feelings, ay?"

Charles Grey smiled brightly while his companion kept a polite silence. The two had been in Elizabeth's fencing class for as long as Ciel could remember, and Ciel grimaced on his cousin's behalf.

"Sure. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll just -"

"Boy, there you are!"

Family get-togethers were always exhausting, Ciel thought, but this one was especially excruciating.

"Hello, Baron Kelvin," Ciel answered, his hand getting swept up in a formal handshake.

"What a marvellous day for a wedding," the Baron informed him.

Since the snow was beginning to settle, white flakes covering his shoulders and making him shiver, Ciel couldn't disagree more.

"EVERYONE! CAN I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!"

Vincent Phantomhive seemed just as flustered as Ciel, the onslaught of well-wishers obviously taking him off-guard.

"The rehearsal will be commencing now, if you would all just take your seats."

Ciel turned back to the church doors and joined the throng of guests as they began to file in, that sinking feeling returning to the pit of his stomach. Candles lit the pews already, casting a warm glow in the otherwise cold church, and Ciel could see the Midford's near the altar already, conversing with the vicar. Vincent gave Ciel a firm nod before taking his seat, and the youngest Phantomhive was left to make the rest of the journey down the aisle alone.

*

"Let's try it again."

It wasn't going well. The guests were all seated and hushed, and the vicar was looking at Ciel with barely concealed exasperation.

"We'll take it from the start," he said, speaking extra slowly. "Repeat after me:

With this hand, I will life your sorrows,       Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine,                                                                With this candle, I will light your way in darkness,                                                                With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

Ciel heard the words, but it was as though he was in a dream. This didn't seem real. Lizzie was stood next to him, her own vows recited perfectly, and she kept glancing at her mother as if begging for help.

Ciel cleared his throat, wanting nothing more than to just get this over with.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows," Ciel said, discreetly wiping his sweaty palm on his trouser leg before reaching for Lizzie's. Judging by her expression, Ciel would say she'd noticed. "Your cup," he began, trying not to think of how uncomfortable he felt just touching her hand. "Your cup will never be empty." She felt clammy. "For I will be your wine."

The vicar cleared his throat.

Ciel's face grew hot when he realised that he should have released her hand and prepared the wine instead. He snatched his hand away so violently that he almost upset the metal chalice that sat on the low table.

"Move on," commanded the vicar.

"Right, yes. With this candle," Ciel blustered, skipping the wine entirely to hold a stem of tapered wax to the flame beside the chalice. The wick stubbornly refused to light. "I will light your way..." He tried engulfing the candle at every angle,  growing more frustrated. "In darkness," he finished, still unsuccessful in lighting the thing.

The vicar sighed. "Do you even _want_ to be married?" He asked in a low voice.

"No, no," Ciel replied, beaming when the flame finally lit. He caught the vicar's eye and realised what he'd said, hastening to amend himself. "I mean, no of course -"

 "Tell me you've remembered the ring, at least," the man said, unamused.

" _Yes_." The band of gold was fished from his pocket, and he held it aloft for all of a second before his sweaty palms betrayed him, the ring slipping from his grasp and bouncing onto the ground.

Some of the onlookers gasped as Ciel scrambled onto all fours, candle and all, crawling after the ring which had rolled under the table. Ciel snatched at it, knocking it sideways and bumping into the table leg for his efforts, which sent the wine flying.

"My _shoes_ ," came a high-pitched squeal, closely followed by the sound of running footsteps.

Ciel successfully closed his fist around the ring this time, backing up reluctantly to face the damage. His foot hit something soft just as he was free of the table, and he spun around on one knee.

Right into the voluminous folds of his Aunt Francis's dress.

This would have been embarrassing regardless, but since Ciel's left hand was still clutching the lit candle, it quickly became a disaster. The dress caught faster than a pile of kindling, and he stared dumbfounded as smoke began to pour from the fabric.

"Mother!" Elizabeth cried.

She rushed forward just as Ciel leapt into action, the two of them making to pat out the fire, though they only succeeded in butting heads instead. The heavy _'thump'_ was hard enough to make Ciel see stars.

"Ouch!" Lizzie yelped.

Ciel backed away as more of the guests raced down the aisle, smothering the flames with jackets and shawls while the boy edged towards the door. He blew out the candle, tossing it away from him as though hiding the evidence, though everyone had already been witness to the calamity.

"BOY!" Vincent yelled back at him.

"I'm just... uh, some fresh air," Ciel called back, groping for the door handle. "I'm sorry," he added to Elizabeth, who was looking as though she might cry again.

The last thing Ciel heard was the vicar shouting angrily at him to learn his vows, before he hurtled into the night and away from the second-worst experience of his life.

***

The youngest son of the Phantomhives was not born for greatness. Unlike his brother, he lacked the ambition to become the great leader their father was. Ciel had once had dreams of opening a toy shop, of leaving the family Manor and moving to the city. Always the quieter twin, he'd thought about having his own little town house, a log fire burning in the hearth and a whole room filled with books where he could just read, undisturbed.

That dream was dashed just over a year ago, when his brother was found dead in their shared bedroom. The covers had been thrown off Ciel's bed too, his pillow shredded, but he hadn't been there. He'd been sick that night, raiding the pantry for honey to help dull his cough.

He knew his parents hadn't forgiven him. He could see it in their eyes every time they looked at him - why had _he_ survived, - the weak, younger twin - when the Phantomhive heir had been left to die?

The killer was gone before the body was discovered. Full resources had gone into the investigation, but it hadn't been any use. Nobody knew who had targeted the Phantomhive's like this, or indeed, _why_.

*

Ciel shivered. He'd taken refuge on a stone bridge at the edge of the village, the river looking black as it rushed along beneath him. He thought about throwing himself into those icy depths - just letting go and allowing the river to take him. It was just a thought, however - he was too much of a coward to ever really do such a thing.

Instead, he turned to face the forest on the other side. It looked gloomy and dismal, which was just what Ciel needed right now. A thin layer of snow glittered in the moonlight as he made his way past the tree line, his fine leather shoes precarious on the frosted moss. Ciel didn't care. He walked faster, replaying the last half-hour over and over in his head.

"With this hand, I will lift your candle," he said aloud, picturing the blaze. He realised then that he'd said the line wrong and huffed at himself.

"With this hand, I will lift your _sorrows_ ," he corrected. "Your wine will never be empty, for I will cup your... Oh, dammit."

He needed to clear his mind, but it was almost impossible. He tried to focus on the gnarled trees instead, walking faster and taking a deep breath.

"Your cup will never be empty, for I will be your wine," he said perfectly, hopping over a fallen log and feeling emboldened. He snatched up a twig, holding it aloft. "With this candle, I will light your way in darkness." In his mind, the wick lit easily. "With this ring," he continued, throwing it and catching it easily in his palm. "I ask you to be mine."

He gracefully placed the ring on a dead branch jutting from the ground, satisfied that he could say his vows just fine without the impending prospect of actual marriage. If he could just shut off his mind on the day, then things would surely run more smoothly.

 The ground shook under Ciel's feet and he blinked. Earthquakes were not exactly a regular occurrence in England, though this certainly felt like one.  Powdered snow began to drop from the nearby branches as the tremors grew, and Ciel took a step back, eyes darting around wildly.

It was as if the very earth was caving in on itself. The branch that held the gold wedding ring stirred and icy dirt fell away, a wide hole forming as everything shifted. Ciel watched, frozen in horror, as something rose from that hole - a figure, dressed all in black.

It appeared to be a man, though it wasn't like any man Ciel had ever seen; his skin seemed far too pale, his eyes an unnatural shade of red. Hair as black as ebony framed his face, sooty lashes blinking down at Ciel, but that wasn't what unnerved they boy  - while this stranger certainly radiated an ethereal beauty, his most prominent feature was probably the gaping hole in his chest, or perhaps his missing left arm.

"Excuse me," said the stranger, reaching down and snagging up the branch - or at least, it _used_ to be a branch. Now, instead of twisted brown twigs, there was a set of bones; a bleached white arm, the hand still sporting the golden wedding ring. The man proceeded to shove the entire humerus up into his gaping sleeve before jerking his shoulder and making a satisfied _'ahh'_ sound.

That skeletal hand gave a test wriggle, and the strange man gazed down at the wedding ring with a curious expression on his face. "I do," he said.

Ciel ran. He didn't even think about it; his feet moved almost as fast as his thundering heart, carrying him deep into the woods and away from that eerie figure. He didn't even know where he was going - the trees all looked the same, branches snagging at him as though they were trying to hold him back. He only ran faster, the blood rushing in his ears, breath burning in his lungs.

He hit a patch of ice and his foot slipped. It _hurt_. He turned his head and saw that the man was still pursuing him, a dark shadow amongst the trees. With his feet back under him, Ciel managed to make it away from the ice and up onto a small bank decorated with dozens of huge stones.

He dodged the first few before realising what they were. Gravestones jutted out of the ground around him, some of them looking so old that they were crumbling to pieces. He carried on running, zigzagging past the graves and feeling like this night couldn't get any worse when a crow flew low overhead, cawing. It was followed by an entire murder, the black birds flying right for Ciel. He threw his hands in front of his face and ducked, changing course hastily and blundering onwards.

He only slowed down when he heard the sound of the river. That rush of water was so welcome, the promise of safety just beyond the bridge. Ciel gasped and panted as he broke free of the trees, dodging the crows as they swooped and cawed overhead, his feet finding the solid ground of the path as he made it to the crossing.

He was going to make it.

And then he heard a noise behind him, a sort of grating noise, like the whisper of old parchment. He spun around, back knocking against the stone wall of the bridge, and that figure was on him. A skeletal hand wrapped around his wrist, the sheer height of the man dwarfing Ciel, and he tried to scream but no sound came out.

The man pressed closer, his head tilting down. "Let us seal our marriage with a kiss," he murmured, his voice surprisingly deep, and that was the last thing Ciel knew before something cold touched his mouth and the world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, who's this guy?"

"Is that -"

"By Jove. Looks like we've got ourselves a breather!"

"Are you sure?"

"Mmm, he's still soft."

Ciel woke to a cacophony of voices. He blinked and groaned, trying to sit up, but there was a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy, love."

That voice. A face swam into focus - blazing red eyes and pale skin. The man from the forest.

"A toast!" Someone cried. "To the newlyweds!"

"N-newlyweds?" Ciel croaked.

They appeared to be in some sort of pub. The room was crowded with people, all talking excitedly. Ciel himself was leaning heavily on the bar, though he sat upright in an instant when he realised how close that man's face was to his own.

"You said your vows so perfectly in the woods," the stranger said, smiling.

"I did?" It all started coming back. The wedding vows. The ring. Ciel glanced down to see that gold band still sitting around the man's skeletal finger. "I _did_ ," he repeated, horrified.

This was all terribly wrong. Not just the insinuation of marriage, but everything about this place; the pub was bright, almost cheerful, but the inhabitants were... _unusual_. Three skeletons stood at the end of the bar, raising pint glasses to their bony jaws and causing beer to splatter all over the floor. A person with half a face was making small talk with a huge, bloated man whose skin was mottled and grey. There was a woman in traditional maids clothing with a sword in her chest, a man with no arms, even a cat with clumps of fur missing, preening itself on one of the tables. Ciel's mind span.

"Coming through, make way, make way."

The crowd parted as a blond man with blackened clothes wound his way past Ciel. He was carrying a huge, silver tray, which he slammed down onto the bar.

"Hey there, name's Bard," the man said to Ciel. He grinned, an unlit cigarette trapped between his teeth. "Look what I got for ya."

The man lifted the lid of the tray with a flourish, proudly revealing a lopsided cake. It was pale green, with a crude representation of two grooms standing side by side on top. A few people cheered while a maggot squirmed in the frosting, and it was all too much for Ciel. He leapt from his seat, staggering back and reaching for something, anything, that he could use as a weapon. Something shiny caught his eye, and he grabbed it, holding it in front of him.

"Stay back!" He yelled to the bar full of corpses. "I've got a... maid..."  It seemed that he'd grabbed the sword that was still embedded deep in the woman's chest. "And I'm not afraid to use her," Ciel finished lamely.

"It's Mey-Rin," the maid said politely.

Ciel ignored her. "I need questions! Where am I? And who," he glanced at the man from the woods, who was stood by the bar with an inquisitive look on his handsome face. "Who _are_ you?"

The corpses had hushed to let Ciel speak, but Bard was the one to answer. "I assume you mean answers, kid. And I guess it's a long story."

"A good one, though!" Mey-Rin added excitedly. Ciel hastened to release her sword handle.

"This is gonna be good," someone said quietly, and all of the skeletons took a seat to watch.

Bard didn't exactly seem to mind being the centre of attention. He even took a step up onto the raised platform behind the bar, looking amused as he fixed his eyes on Ciel. "Well, in life I guess you could say that this guy was, hah, an _eligible bachelor_ ," he started, clapping a hand on the tall corpses' shoulder and making his arm rattle. "Worth lots of money, easy on the eyes, you know the sort. Preferred his own company though, much to the distress of all the girls in town." He chuckled while the corpse glared at him. "Still, being alone all the time does get pretty lonely, so when the Duchess's daughter took an interest, he could hardly turn her down. Only, there was a problem."

"I don't think everyone needs to know -" the corpse's baritone voice began, but Bard went on regardless.

"See, he didn't love her. He'd tried everything, but, let's just say his tastes lay elsewhere. He went through with the wedding anyway, determined not to bring shame upon her, but when it came to the night -"

"Enough," said the groom, more firmly this time.

"Alright, alright," Bard replied, holding up his hands sheepishly. "Anyway; the girl wasn't too pleased with the lack of _reciprocation_ , as you can imagine. When our boy tried to explain, she took up a shotgun -"

"It wasn't her fault."

"And told him to get out -"

"She didn't mean to."

"And her finger shook on the trigger."

Ciel looked again at the hole in the corpses' chest. He could see bare ribs, the shreds of the man's black suit forming a perfect hole in that one spot. Ciel could only imagine the shotgun blast.

"And then everything went black. When he opened his eyes he was as dead as dust, alone in the forest, his body abandoned to the crows. And so he made a vow: he would wait there, as long as it took, until his true love finally came to set him free. " 

"You mean...the Duchess's daughter?" Ciel asked tentatively, fascinated by the story despite his fear.

"You aren't listening," Bard scolded, though he was still grinning. "She wasn't his true love, and in death did they part. No, this time it was the real thing he waited for. And then _you_ come along, looking like a dream come true." Bard actually seemed more serious now. "Vowing to be by his side, forever..."

"W-wait-"

"We all face death eventually. How you choose to spend it is up to you," Bard finished, and the bar rang out with multiple _'cheers_!' as the corpses all drank.

***

Back at Midford Manor, things weren't quite so cheerful.

"Elizabeth, come away from the window."

"I'm sure he'll be back soon."

Vincent, Rachel, Francis and Alexis were all sat in the sitting room, a fire burning in the grate, while Elizabeth paced restlessly. Ciel had been missing for some hours after the calamity of the rehearsal, and the families were beginning to fear the worst.

A sudden knock sounded at the door. Rachel leapt to her feet, hope in her eyes, before the family butler, Emil, entered, announcing the arrival of an unexpected visitor.

"A Baron Kelvin to see you," he said, and Rachel sank back into her seat.

"Very well, send him in," Francis ordered.

The Baron strode in, puffing on a fat cigar. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at the smell.

"Good evening, terribly sorry to bother you."

"Hello there, old friend," Alexis said, shaking the Baron's hand and offering him a seat. He declined.

"I shan't take up much of your time, I just thought you might want to hear the news." Kelvin took another puff of his cigar, as if pausing for dramatic effect.

"You've heard something?" Vincent pressed.

"What? Ah, yes. The Inn is abuzz with word that your son was spotted not so long ago."

"Where?" Rachel asked. "We'll go and fetch him at once!"

"Hmmm yes, that's the problem," Kelvin continued, looking far too pleased. "He was seen on Brayford Bridge, and word has it that he wasn't alone, if you get my meaning..."

"Goodness me." Alexis was wide-eyed, a hand to his chest.

"Are you certain of this?" Francis demanded.

"I can only report what I've heard, but it seems that a certain Charles saw it with his own eyes. Grey or Phipps, I can never be sure which one's which."

"Vincent, we have to go. We have to find our son."

Rachel was on her feet for the second time, urging her husband along with a hand to his sleeve.

"Very well. Please excuse us," he relented, uncharacteristically quiet and pale as the couple slipped away.

Elizabeth looked just as shocked as her father, who was muttering _'oh dear, oh dear,'_ to himself and glancing at the clock.

"Will that be all?" Francis snapped at the Baron, who was watching the whole scene and puffing merrily on his cigar.

"Indeed. Do feel free to call on me if you should require any assistance."

"That won't be necessary. Good night, Baron Kelvin."

"Good night."

Alone at last, the Midford family huddled closer together. Elizabeth came and perched on the seat next to her father, staring thoughtfully into the crackling flames while her parents talked in low voices.

"You don't think it could be true, do you?" Alexis asked his wife.

"Hmmm. Regardless, we are one groom short for the wedding," she replied. "Not to mention... the financial implications. The scandal."

"But there is still tomorrow - maybe he will be found."

"Maybe," Francis agreed, though she wasn't very hopeful.

***

"Your boyfriend sure is jumpy," Bard pointed out, pouring himself a drink from behind the bar.

"He's not my boyfriend - he's my husband."

After Bard had finished his story Ciel had fled from the pub, nobody making any attempts to stop him.

The corpse in the black suit sighed. "Just, if you see him, _be nice_. He's had a difficult evening."

"Sure he has," Bard winked. "I'll bet it's about to get even _harder_. You know - now that he's in the land of the _stiffs_ and all. Get it? Because -"

"He gets it," Mey-Rin interjected, plonking herself on a bar stool. Bard automatically passed her a bottle of beer and she took it, turning to address the groom. "Don't worry, we'll look after him if he comes back," she promised, popping the bottle lid on the blade impaled in her chest. The man nodded, not exactly feeling reassured, though he offered his thanks anyway before following in pursuit of his new husband.

*

"Darling? Where are you?"

That deep voice rang out dangerously close as Ciel tried to make his escape. The boy had raced from the pub and onto the street, though this wasn't like any street he'd ever seen; the sky was dark, yet it seemed to _glow_ with different shades of blue and green, hues of purple swirling through. There weren't many people out here, just the odd few, though they looked just as frightening as the ones from the bar. One of them said a cheerful " _good evening_ ," to Ciel and he whimpered, veering off in a different direction.

Shop fronts became houses as he blundered down an alleyway. Another turn had his feet hitting grass, and he ran past a pleasant-looking park (skeletal ducks swam on an ornamental lake) and past a man walking his dog (who raised his entire head from his shoulders in greeting).

Ciel came up short when he reached the looming base of a small cliff, but he only hesitated for a moment. The threat of the groom was stronger than any natural danger, and he practically threw himself into the climb. He gripped onto crumbling rock, scrabbling for somewhere to put his hands as he got higher. Just when he reached the top, he heard a voice that made his heart sink.

"Surely the stairs would have been easier."

Ciel's wrist was seized, and he was dragged over the edge onto solid ground. His new husband fussed around him for a moment, brushing dirt off his jacket and tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, before stepping back and beaming at him with surprisingly perfect teeth.

"The view is quite spectacular up here, don't you think?"

Ciel wasn't sure what to say. The corpse was looking at him like he'd just discovered buried treasure. Cautiously, Ciel looked out at the view from this new vantage point; the town lay below them, pinpoints of light that stretched away into the distance, the soft glow of the sky visible in every direction.

"It really takes my breath away. Or rather, it would if I had any." The corpse gave a nervous chuckle.

It didn't seem like he was being threatened. In fact, the dead man actually seemed anxious - he crossed and uncrossed his arms awkwardly before settling them behind his back. Ciel suddenly felt bad. "Look, I am terribly sorry about what happened to you," he started, watching as the man shuffled over to a wooden bench a few feet away. He patted the space next to him, but Ciel stood his ground. "I'd like to help you, I really would, it's just... I have to get home."

" _This_ is your home now." The corpse said, as if he were imparting good news.

"But I don't even know your name."

"Oh - my apologies. It's Sebastian."

Ciel finally relented and sat on the bench, keeping plenty of space between them and looking at his own shoes. The expensive leather was scuffed and dirty. "I'm Ciel."

There was silence for a moment, and Ciel could see Sebastian watching him out of the corner of his eye. He'd never felt so scrutinised. It made a flush rise to his cheeks.

"So, uh," Ciel said, sitting a bit straighter. "You're saying that this is my home now?"

" _Yes_ ," Sebastian said brightly. "I have my own place just over that hill - it's yours as well, now, of course. There's a garden and a balcony and - _oh_ , and my cat, Grim."

"I'm allergic to cats."

"Not to worry - Grim doesn't have any fur."

" _Of course_ ," Ciel muttered, before switching to a more pleasant tone. The corpse's unexpected affability was giving him an idea. "Well, if I'm to stay here forever then wouldn't it be fitting for me to tell my family? They don't even know I'm married."

"Your family?" Sebastian asked.

"Yes - I could introduce you, if you like."

Sebastian looked overjoyed, getting to his feet and talking fast. "A wonderful idea! Of course, I should meet my in-laws - but what should I wear? What if they don't like me? Maybe I should get them a gift, something fitting for the parents of my new husband.."

He dragged his fingers through his hair as he spoke, and Ciel noted that his right hand was still made up of flesh, the slender digits ending in pitch-black nails.

"No need, you look fine," Ciel told him offhandedly.

" _Really_??" If it was possible, Sebastian looked even happier. He practically glowed with it.

"Uh, yeah. In fact, we should go and see them _right now_."

"Will they like me?"

"Oh, they'll _love_ you." Ciel tried hard to keep the sarcasm from his voice, and judging by Sebastian's delight, he'd say he succeeded.

"Brilliant! Where are they buried?"

Ciel stopped short. "Uhhh... well they're... they're not exactly from around here." He glanced pointedly up at the sky, hoping Sebastian would get his meaning.

"Oh, they're still _alive_? Well that is a problem. Hmmmm." Sebastian seemed to consider, his skeletal hand coming up to rest on his chin. "Well, I suppose we could..."

"...What?"

Sebastian nodded. "Yes, I know precisely what needs to be done. We'll need to visit the Undertaker."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hello? Anybody here?"

Sebastian and Ciel stepped into the dark shop on the main street. The cluttered room was filled with large, shadowy shapes, and Ciel's foot hit one of them with a ' _thud_ ,' causing him to stumble. Sebastian didn't seem to be having the same problem with the dark; the man stepped over the objects effortlessly, steadying Ciel with a hand to his arm.

"Are you all right?" Sebastian asked, sounding for all the world like he actually cared.

"Fine." Ciel found that the skeletal hand didn't bother him quite as much as it first had. "Let's just find this Underkeeper."

"Under _taker_ ," Sebastian corrected gently, lingering with his fingers on Ciel's sleeve.

Suddenly, a light flickered into life from somewhere overhead. Ciel looked up, seeing the shop clearly for the first time; it was filled with coffins, some of them stacked on top of each other, others propped up against the wall. In front of him was the only normal piece of furniture he could see; a tall desk overflowing with books, with a lit candle dripping wax on the corner.

A sinister laugh bubbled up from the depths of the shop. It made the small hairs on the back of Ciel's neck stand on end, but Sebastian only gave a thin smile.

"Ah, there you are Undertaker," he said, sounding utterly unsurprised.

A figure rose from one of the coffins right at the back, the candlelight barely even reaching that far. Ciel wondered for a moment how the flame had been lit, but his day had been so strange already that he didn't question it for long.

"How've you been, Sebastian?" Came the answering voice, wavering with mirth. "Still having trouble getting a rise?"

"I - _what_? No, that's - _no_."

The Undertaker gave a mad cackle and strode into the light to reveal long, silvery hair that hid most of his face.

"Then to what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked.

"I've brought my husband, Ciel."

The laughter stopped. " _Husband_ , you say?"

The Undertaker regarded Ciel closely - or at least, Ciel thought he did. He couldn't really tell with all that hair in the way.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sir," Ciel said, remembering his manners. He started to hold out a hand to shake, but thought better of it and adjusted his cufflink instead. If Sebastian was mildly alarming, this guy was far worse.

"We need to go _up_ ," Sebastian announced. "To visit the land of the living. Is there any way you can help?"

The Undertaker raised a finger, and Ciel noted his nails were as long as talons. He'd definitely made the right decision with the handshake. "Go _up_? Oh dear, why would you want to go up _there_ , when people are _dying_ to get down _here_?"

He laughed at his own joke and Sebastian gave a dramatic sigh.

"Please, Undertaker? Surely there must be something you can do."

"Hmm, maybe - but you know the toll."

"Ah. Yes." Sebastian turned to Ciel and gave him a warm smile, though the effect was ruined by the shadows from the candlelight, which flickered across his face ghoulishly. "I hate to ask, but - could you wait outside for just a moment, please?"

It took Ciel by surprise. "Wait, you're kicking me out?"

" _No_ , of course not. I just need to pay the toll and then I'll come and get you immediately. It won't take a minute."

Both men were looking expectantly at Ciel.

"Oh, fine. I'll just be outside, then."

He muttered an irritated " _don't mind me_ ," and let himself out the way they'd come in, closing the door behind him with a huff. It was cold here, in the land of the dead. The street was lit with just the soft glow of the night sky, everything around him seeming calm, though the peacefulness didn't extend to Ciel's mood. After being fawned over and treated like royalty for the majority of the last hour, he felt rather indignant at being asked to wait outside in the cold like some kind of stray dog.

Thunderous laughter suddenly cut through the silence. Ciel span around to peer at the shop in confusion, wondering what on earth was going on in there, when Sebastian came to the door.

"You can come back in," he said, looking completely unruffled.

"Oh....kay."

Ciel re-entered the room to see the Undertaker doubled over, positively shaking with mirth and banging one hand on the table.

"What was the toll? To make him _laugh_?" Ciel asked dubiously, and Sebastian nodded. "What did you say to him?" Ciel pressed, still offended that he hadn't been invited to watch.

 Sebastian shrugged, a mysterious smile playing about his lips.

"You.. always pay a... good price," the Undertaker choked out, trying to catch his breath.          

The man dissolved into fresh peals of laughter, and Ciel reached the end of his patience. "So, does this mean you'll help us or not?" He demanded loudly.

"Sure, sure," the Undertaker said, raising a hand. "Just be sure to tell me if anything amusing happens while you're there." He began rifling through the books on the table, not being particularly neat about it. A few of them fell onto the floor. "Ukrainian haunting spell, Ukrainian haunting spell.... _hah_! Here it is. Alright, just say _'hopscotch'_ when you want to come back."

" _Hopscotch_?" Ciel asked, though he'd barely gotten the word out before a tugging sensation seemed to yank him off his feet. Blackness hurtled up to greet him, and he shot into it so fast that he couldn't even scream.

***

He was back where he'd started. Ciel blinked, finding himself on his hands and knees on the forest floor. He gingerly got to his feet and tried to brush some of the dirt from his trousers.

"I spent so long in the darkness, I'd almost forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is."

Sebastian's voice was soft, his face tilted upwards and his eyes closed. Ciel took the opportunity to look at him more closely; despite the gaping hole in his chest and his skeletal arm, he was still the prettiest man Ciel had ever seen. A ruby eye cracked open, and Ciel looked away hastily.

"Maybe I'd better go and find my family first," he said, his chest tightening at the prospect. "Just to prepare them for the big news."

"Yes, perfect!" Sebastian replied eagerly, taking a few quick strides over to Ciel and reaching for him.

Ciel took a step back, turning his face away and feeling even worse.

"You need to stay here," he reiterated. "I'll be right back."

Sebastian lowered his hand. "Ah. Of course."

The corpse sat heavily on a nearby tree stump and turned his face back to the moon, sighing happily. He didn't seem discouraged in the least.

***

Ciel made it all the way back to Midford Manor in little over ten minutes. The forecourt was dark, but a light still shone in some of the windows. It had to be past midnight - Ciel could only assume that it meant his family was waiting up for him. That thought made him feel somewhat better, but it was dashed as soon as he got to the front door. Despite the thick wood, he could still hear the voices behind it.

"If I ever get my hands on my nephew, I'll ring his scrawny neck!" Francis declared.

"Now, now Dear... I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation for all of-"

"Everything ruined!" She went on. "And who's going to pay for all of this? We've already borrowed enough from the Phantomhives, this marriage was supposed to set us straight!"

"Maybe the bank -"

"The bank, _hah_! Wake up Alexis, we're in ruins! First your job, then Lizzie's prospects - we'll be losing our title if this continues."

"...I realise that."

"This is all the Phantomhive boy's fault. If only it were his brother..."

Ciel didn't stick around to hear the rest. He shoved himself away from the door feeling sick, his feet taking him around to the other side of the house. A low balcony loomed above him, a soft glow emanating from the room beyond - Elizabeth's room. For the first time, he found himself wanting to see her.

It wasn't a particularly difficult climb, but Ciel was still out of breath when he reached the top. He threw himself over the balustrade and doubled over with his hands on his knees, wheezing. He'd probably never done as much exercise in his whole life as he had today.

Lizzie was clearly visible through the clear glass panes of the balcony doors. She sat in a large wooden chair by the fire, doing some kind of needlework despite the late hour. It seemed ridiculous to knock while gazing in at her like this, but he did it anyway.

The tapping sounds on the glass were barely audible over the chilly wind, but Lizzie looked up immediately, needle poised.

" _Ciel_?"

Elizabeth was in her nightgown, a long-sleeved frilly thing, and Ciel looked away pointedly as she scrambled to put on a robe. He only looked up when the door was opening in front of him, Lizzie's blue eyes looking huge as she took in his dishevelled appearance.

"Ciel - oh, goodness, your _clothes_... what happened?"

Lizzie stepped aside so that Ciel could enter. He glanced down as he did and noted the dirt on his knees, the rips in his jacket and scuffs on his shoes. He cleared his throat and turned back to see Elizabeth watching him.

"I'm not sure that you'd believe me," Ciel told her cautiously.

The fire was warm in the hearth, and Ciel felt his numb fingers begin to prickle back to life as he held out his hands, edging closer. Lizzie followed, narrowing her eyes - it was probably the most attention she'd ever paid to him.

"You _must_ tell me," Lizzie insisted. "The things we've heard - we've all been worried sick!"

Ciel didn't bother to inform her that his Aunt and Uncle seemed more angry than worried. Instead, he reluctantly dove into his tale.

"Elizabeth, I confess - the idea of marriage has terrified me ever since I first learned of my duties. Ironic, then, that I seem to find myself already married."

" _Married_? Ciel, you aren't making any sense."

Lizzie was looking at him as if he were mad, her curls wild around her shoulders and her skin looking drawn and pale. Still, she wasn't as pale as Sebastian - Ciel tried to stop thinking about him.

"You should know that it's unexpected," he said. "Certainly not my intention. If it were up to me, I never would have... that is to say..."

He was babbling and he knew it, trying not to reveal how repulsed he was by the very idea of marriage. None of it was Lizzie's fault, although when she was looking at him with watery eyes he couldn't help but feel a tinge of resentment.

"What are you saying, Ciel?" She sniffled. "Is this all just a way t-to stop the wedding?"

"No, that isn't it," Ciel hastened to say. He watched one fat tear roll from her eyelashes and onto her cheek, tracing a wet path down her face. A part of him wished that he hadn't bothered to leave the land of the dead at all. Still, he was a gentleman; he pulled the white handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it out. Elizabeth took it curiously, her nose wrinkling at the patches of dirt.

"What _happened_ to you?" She asked again, and this time there was something different in her tone.

That was when the balcony door flew open, a gust of cold wind whooshing in and stirring Ciel's hair.

"Ah, there you are," Sebastian said pleasantly, stepping into the room. "I just wanted to meet... wait, who's this?"

The corpse did not look happy when he saw how close Ciel was standing to Elizabeth. It got even worse when he realized she was holding the boy's handkerchief.

"Darling?" Sebastian pressed, the hint of a plea in his voice.

"Ciel, do you _know_ this man?" Elizabeth asked, bewildered.

Sebastian raised his chin proudly. "I happen to be his husband."

Ciel's heart sank. This was it; the Phantomhive name was officially in ruins. He could only imagine what his Aunt and Uncle would say now - what his own _parents_ would think...

"Wait," Ciel said desperately, stepping between them and facing Lizzie. "You don't understand - he's _dead_." It was all he could think to say. He reached behind him for Sebastian's skeletal hand and held it up to the light. "See?"

It looked like Lizzie was about to cry again - or possibly scream, Ciel wasn't sure - when Sebastian rounded on him, narrowing his ruby eyes. He didn't spare another glance at Elizabeth.

"Hopscotch," said the corpse ominously. He gripped tightly to Ciel's wrist, and the room faded from view, Elizabeth's horrified face disappearing along with it.

***

He landed on his feet this time. They were back in the Undertaker's shop, though now it was empty.

"You lied to me!" Sebastian declared, sounding hurt. "All just to get back to that _woman_."

"It's not like that, she's just..." Just what? His fiance? His cousin? Ciel felt confused.

"And I thought this was all going so well." Sebastian's voice sounded thick - the candlelight had dimmed, the stub of wax having burned all the way down to the base, but Ciel didn't need to see. He could already imagine the heartbroken look on Sebastian's face.

"I'm sorry. This is all just so... _urgh_. I don't even know what to do. I mean, this could never work between us..."

Sebastian's shoulders sagged. "It's because of my chest, isn't it."

Ciel pictured the gaping hole and tried not to grimace."What? No, your chest is... lovely. It's just that we're too different. For starters, you're dead."

It seemed like a perfectly rational observation, but Sebastian didn't seem to think so. _"_ You should have thought about that before you asked me to marry you!" He snapped, his voice ringing around the room.

Ciel felt wretched. First he'd upset Elizabeth, and now Sebastian - strangely enough, the latter bothered him more. "But I _wasn't_ thinking," Ciel tried to explain, scrambling to find the right words. "It just happened - I didn't even _mean_ to ask, I was just practicing for -"

He didn't need to finish that sentence.

"For your vows with _her_ ," Sebastian realised, his voice sounding just as dead as he was.

All Ciel could do was nod guiltily, feeling his gut twist as Sebastian span around and effortlessly navigated the dark shop, slamming the door shut behind him.

***

The bar was almost empty at this time of night. Sebastian flopped down onto a bar stool, hanging his head in his hands.

"Trouble in paradise?" Asked Bard.

The chef was currently manning the bar. He had immersed himself in cleaning all the beer glasses with a dirty cloth, though he paused to give Sebastian a look of concern.

"You could say that," Sebastian replied. He couldn't believe it had all gone so wrong. When he'd first opened his eyes in the forest to see the man of his dreams, a brand new wedding ring sparkling on his finger, he'd been so happy he could have died all over again. Now all he felt was stupid.

"Awh, man, it can't be all that bad. Here, have a drink," said Bard, pouring him a beer.

Sebastian gave a dramatic sigh. "He _hates_ me."

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you. Here, drink up."

The glass was plonked in front of Sebastian, who sank down further and stared into its depths.

"He does. He'd rather be with Little Miss Living. And why wouldn't he, with her _rosy cheeks_ and _beating heart_." He spat the last few words like they were insults.

"That does sound rough," Bard admitted. He started to pour another drink, presumably for himself. "Still, you've got something she doesn't have."

Sebastian raised his eyebrows, waiting for it.

"You've got...err....you've got....a... a _wonderful personality_."

"Fantastic," Sebastian said flatly, and took a sip of his beer.

"No, hear me out. You're one of the most decent guys around. What does that wispy little brat have that you don't?"

"How about a pulse?"

"Overrated." Bard waved a hand, coming around to sit on the bar stool next to Sebastian. "I mean, _she_ isn't the one wearing his ring, is she?"

Sebastian looked down at his hand. Skinless. Skeletal. Dead.

"But she still breathes air. He's better off with her."

Bard shrugged. "We all know that's just a temporary state. It doesn't matter; in the end she'll be just as deceased as everyone else. Nothing special about her."

The maid with the sword in her chest had been busy pottering around, using what looked like shoe polish to clean the wooden tables.

"Oh, he's lucky to have you, he is," she called over. "He just doesn't know it yet."

"Yeah, she's right," Bard agreed. "You just have to get to know him a bit more. Let him see the real you."

"The real me," Sebastian repeated. He looked sadly down at his own chest, his flesh fingers playing over the hole. He knew that just behind his exposed ribs lay a sad mass, blackened and broken. The remains of his heart. "I daresay that would just make everything worse. He doesn't belong here."

"Awh, don't say that."

Sebastian stood, the barstool squeaking on the floor. "Thank you for your help, but I know what must be done."

Bard gave him a sad smile. "Just... go and _think_ about it, yeah? This is everything you've been waiting for."

Sebastian paused and eventually nodded, feeling a tug of longing in his hollow chest. "He deserves better," he murmured, torn, before giving a sad wave and wandering back into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone. Please give me kudos.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been an almost sleepless night for the Midfords. When Rachel and Vincent hadn't returned, Francis and Alexis had retired in the early hours of the morning. It felt like they had gotten barely any sleep at all when there was a knock on the bedroom door, the grey light of dawn barely illuminating the room.

"Sir? Madam? I'm terribly sorry for the disturbance at this hour, but it seems you have a visitor."

Emil, the butler, sounded almost as hesitant as if he were waking a sleeping tiger. To his surprise, the door opened some moments later to reveal the Lady of the house in a misbuttoned dressing gown.

"Is it the Phantomhive boy?" She demanded.

"Not quite. The Baron Kelvin has returned."

Francis's expression soured. "Kelvin again? What the devil could that man want now. Very well, tell him we'll meet him in the Day Room. And fetch Paula, for goodness sake."

Francis had a feeling that this was going to be another long day.

***

Ciel had been wandering. He was so tired that his eyes were stinging, but his mind still raced.

After leaving the Undertaker's shop, he'd managed to find his way back to the park from earlier. It didn't take him long to discover the set of stone steps leading up to the top of the cliff. No wonder Sebastian had thought it unnecessary to climb the cliff face - the steps were literally just around the corner.

That was where he'd stayed until dawn. He sat on the bench and gazed at the lightening sky, the hues of blue and purple changing to a red the exact colour of Sebastian's eyes. It faded slowly, turning into a yellow glow, but the red colour stayed vivid in Ciel's mind.

By now, the youngest Phantomhive had realised that there was no way back for him. He was trapped here, in the land of the dead. It must look like such a tragedy from the outside - a young man, in line for the Earldom, ripped from the world on the eve of his wedding. All Ciel felt, however, was a curious sense of relief; he'd never have to marry Elizabeth. He'd never have to take on the role of Head of the House, or be subjected to a lifetime of playing a part that he didn't want. It was like a weight was being lifted from his shoulders, and Ciel felt lighter the longer he thought about it.

It wasn't as cold out now. Though there was no visible sun, the light of the sky seemed to provide some sort of warmth. Ciel stood and stretched his stiff limbs, feeling like he'd been given a second chance. A chance at _what_ , he wasn't sure, but he knew what his next step should be: he needed to find Sebastian. Truthfully, he'd expected the corpse to be the one to find _him,_ and the fact that he hadn't bothered Ciel far more than it should.

*

The first place he thought to look was the pub. There were more people on the streets this morning, the shops now open and bustling will all manner of dead people. Ciel side-stepped as a man covered in hissing snakes strode past, but he didn't run away this time. He even returned the cheery _'good morning_ ' from a brightly dressed Chinese couple, both of them smoking elaborate pipes.

Bard was still behind the bar when Ciel entered the pub. He noted dimly that it was called ' _The Lock Up_ ,' the words painted in colourful letters above the door, though his eyes were busy scanning the place for that familiar distinguished figure.

"You won't find 'im here," said a voice to his left.

He turned towards it and noticed the maid, Mey-Rin, blinking at him from behind her glasses.

"How do you know I'm looking for _him_?" Ciel asked abruptly.

"Hah. I know that expression. Had it meself for a long time - Sebastian just has this _way_ about him. Drives everyone crazy."

Ciel couldn't help but feel the tiniest swell of pride that Sebastian had chosen _him_ over everyone, though it deflated when he remembered the situation.

"Yeah well, it doesn't really matter anymore. I'm pretty sure he's changed his mind."

Mey-Rin frowned. "Poor bloke," she sighed. "If anyone deserved a bit of happiness, it's 'im." She leaned in closer, glancing from side to side as if about to share the most conspiratorial of secrets. "It's because of that girl, isn't it."

It took Ciel by surprise."What girl?"

"The breather. Sebastian was 'ere last night, saying you were already engaged to some _living_ girl. Broke his heart, it did."

"Oh no, that's - wait, Sebastian was here?"

Something in his tone made Mey-Rin take in an excited breath. "It's not true, is it? I knew it."

"Uh, actually it is," Ciel told her. "But only sort of. Look, I need to speak to him - do you know where he went?"

"Probably home. Why - are you going to find him? Tell 'im he was wrong?"

For a maid, she certainly was nosy. "Just tell me where he lives," Ciel demanded wearily.

"Oooh, I can't wait to 'ear what happens," she grinned, before finally giving him directions to an address not too far away. Ciel repeated it in his head a few times before leaving the bar behind, heading towards a house he'd never seen and a husband that was due an apology.

***

Elizabeth had been confined to her room all morning. She had originally tried to tell everyone of her late night visit, but after both Emil and Paula had tried to hush her, claiming hysterics, she had lapsed into a sullen silence. Paula had then gently explained the tricks one's own mind can play after a stressful day with little sleep, and Lizzie had actually started to question it herself by the time her parents were ready to see her.

"Mother? What's going on?"

The door to the bedroom creaked open, revealing her Mother and Father standing there with all-too-wide smiles on their faces.

"Darling," said Alexis affectionately. "All of our troubles have been solved. You can rest easy know that the wedding will proceed tomorrow, almost entirely as planned."

Lizzie took in a sharp breath. "He's _back_?" She breathed.

"No, and thank heavens for that," Francis informed her sharply. "We've found another suitor - a Baron, no less. He'll be able to donate just as much as the Phantomhives, if not _more_."

"You don't mean.... Baron _Kelvin_?" Elizabeth gawked at her mother, horrified. The Baron was nearly thirty years her senior, and he hadn't exactly aged well. Rumour had it that he'd turned to surgery to try and keep his youthful looks, though it had only resulted in increasingly pockmarked, lopsided features."You can't be serious?"

"What choice do we have?" Francis asked. "If we don't do _something_ then we'll be forced penniless, out into the streets."

"You'll be well taken care of, Elizabeth," added Alexis, his tone softer. "We _all_ will - your brother will even be able to go back to Weston instead of that low-budget farce of a school we had to send him to. He'll be arriving later today, you can tell him the good news yourself..."

It all seemed like a disaster veiled as good fortune. If Elizabeth didn't do as they said, her family would be torn apart. Their welfare was entirely based on her decision, and that gave her no choice at all, really.

"Yes, Father. Mother."

Lizzie's voice was robotic. She spent the rest of the conversation smiling woodenly, agreeing when she needed to and bidding a polite goodbye. She'd see them again at dinner - after the second wedding rehearsal in two days. Tomorrow, it would be the real thing. She couldn't think of a worse way to spend Christmas - or, indeed, the rest of her life.

***

The house was easy to find. Mey-Rin's directions had been surprisingly accurate, taking Ciel down an alleyway just off the main street and through a neighbourhood where the houses got steadily nicer the further he walked. Sebastian's house was right at the end.

Ciel was used to grand houses, having grown up in a manor himself, but he couldn't help but feel impressed. A set of white pillars framed the porch, large bay windows jutting out either side. The house was tall and made of a light sandstone, the roof dark and sloping, a pretty balcony jutting out of the side. Where Phantomhive Manor looked gothic and impressive, this place was grand yet inviting.

Ciel reached for the door knocker, wondering what the hell he was going to say to Sebastian, when the door swung inwards on its own. Nobody came to greet him - he was met only with the distant sounds of a violin.

"Hello?" He called out cautiously.

Nothing. The violin went on playing, the notes exceptionally beautiful, and Ciel couldn't help it. He took a step into the house, drawn to the music the way a sunflower is drawn towards the light.

The hallway was bright, with high-arched doors leading off in different directions. There were no pictures hanging on the walls, but a low bookshelf sat in the corner adjacent to the staircase, practically bursting with colourful tomes. Ciel wanted to look, but the music still floated down invitingly from somewhere upstairs. He gripped onto the wooden bannister, pausing as he recognised the melancholy notes of Bach's Partita No. 2. It was being played so beautifully that it made Ciel's heart ache - not even his own brother could have conjured such a perfect sound.

Ciel trod lightly on the stairs as the music swelled, his soul singing along with it. This was always his favourite part - where the tempo changed, the slow, mournful notes giving way to a fast-paced, more complex style. He practically held his breath as he turned on the landing, where a door stood partly ajar.

He reached it just as the crescendo peaked. Ciel didn't know what to expect as he peered into the room, but somehow he wasn't surprised. Sebastian stood there, a violin tucked elegantly between his chin and right shoulder, his flesh hand a blur with the bow. His skeletal fingers moved like spiders crawling across the neck, hitting all the right notes with otherworldly ease. Ciel was captivated; he watched the corpse's lowered eyelashes fluttering, the grace behind each movement of his arm. The boy leaned forward helplessly, the music vibrating in his chest. The door creaked.

Sebastian lowered the bow and jerked his head, looking right at Ciel. The last note faded in the air as they stared at each other, Ciel feeling more sheepish by the second.

"I, uhh," he tried, taking a step into the room. There was no point in hiding any more. "The door was open, and I just..."

Sebastian nodded stiffly, placing the instrument down. Now that Ciel could see into the space better, he noticed a fully equipped music room complete with grand piano. Different sized string instruments were displayed on the walls, a high wooden cabinet presumably holding more, and a cello rested next to a black velvet chair.

"I do hope the entertainment has been adequate," Sebastian clipped, and Ciel realised that he'd been staring.

"Yes! I mean - it was good. Better than mine. I've tried to play Partita no.2 before, but it was too difficult for me. When it comes to Bach, I'm better at the Cello Suites."

Sebastian raised a fine, black eyebrow. "You play?" He asked, interested.

"Yeah, just on violin, though."

The ice was beginning to thaw between them. Sebastian reached for one of the violins on the wall, unhooking it neatly from the display peg. Then he opened the top drawer of the cabinet to reveal four perfectly arranged bows; he ran his fingers over them gently, contemplating, before plucking one up and bringing it to Ciel.

"Play for me?"

Sebastian's tone rose with the inflection, making it a question and not a demand.

Ciel took the violin, feeling the reassuring weight of the wood. "I told you, I'm not that good. My Father always said that the talent got shared unequally between my brother and me. Guess I wasn't so lucky."

"You have a brother?"

Ciel hastened to take up the bow. "No. Forget it. Here, I remember some of Suite no. 1."

It was undeniably the simplest of the 6 Cello Suites, and therefore the one Ciel felt the most comfortable with. Still, it was by no means easy; Ciel was adapting the tune to the higher-sounding violin, and had to be careful with the pressure not to make it sound too harsh. He cursed when he missed one of the notes, his fingers fumbling on the unfamiliar instrument, but Sebastian didn't seem to mind.

"Go on," urged the corpse, backing away and seating himself on the velvet chair.

Ciel did. He let his eyes become unfocussed, the notes practically playing themselves. His fingers moved purely on muscle memory, even though it had been such a long time since he last played this particular piece.

An unexpected noise made his vision clear. A low, reverberating note. Ciel looked up, though he continued to play, to see the cello resting between Sebastian's legs, a long bow being drawn across the strings. He immediately matched Ciel's pace, playing the same piece but an octave lower. The effect was stunning. The harmonious notes flowed over eachother, the cello sounding rich and vibrant against the singing treble of the violin.

This was like nothing Ciel had ever experienced. He'd played with his brother before, but not like this; not looking into each other's eyes while the notes caressed each other, a sensuous dance that rang out in the air around them. Neither of them looked away, and Ciel found his breathing starting to quicken, his heart beating faster.

By the time they reached the last few notes, the tension was thick enough to cut. Ciel finished with a drawn out note, giving a shaky exhale and finally lowering his gaze.

"Beautiful," Sebastian murmured in a gravelly voice.

Ciel nodded, feeling a shiver go through him.

"...Are you alright?"

Ciel heard the clunk of the cello being set aside, and he looked up to see Sebastian striding over.

"I - I'm fine," Ciel assured him, though that didn't stop Sebastian from bending slightly, his hands on his knees as if studying a child.

"You look dreadfully pale," he said with concern.

"You're one to talk."

"Hmmm, when did you last get some sleep?"

As soon as the word was mentioned, Ciel began to feel the exhaustion creeping up on him. The adrenaline rush from the music was beginning to wear off, and it left him feeling bone-weary.

"Not for a while..." He admitted, unsure how long it was exactly.

Sebastian took the violin and bow from him, setting them on the cabinet before gently taking Ciel's arm.

"You need rest. I'm sorry for not realising sooner - I must admit, I've been out of touch with the living for a time."

"You don't sleep?" Ciel asked, letting Sebastian guide him from the room. It felt good to let someone take control like this.

"Sometimes. Though it isn't a necessity - more of a luxury," Sebastian admitted, and they walked to the top of the hall where Sebastian pushed open a door.  "I hope this will suffice."

A bedroom lay before them, decorated in shades of cream and dove- grey. The bed was large with clean, plain sheets, and there was a chair and a wardrobe next to a low dressing table. It couldn't be further from Ciel's room at home.

"It's great," he said honestly.

There was a pause while Sebastian loitered in the doorway, but eventually he took a step back and cleared his throat.

"Well, I'll be in the kitchen if you should need anything."

"Okay. Thanks."

Sebastian bowed before leaving. He actually bowed. Both of them looked a bit surprised at this turn of events, Sebastian's eyes widening comically before he span around and marched off towards the stairs.

Ciel found himself snickering - one minute the corpse seemed beyond sophisticated, the very picture of elegance, and the next he was the complete opposite. The boy was still grinning when he toed off his ruined shoes and flopped onto the bed, the soft mattress immediately pulling him into sleep. The smile only faded when the dreams came - dreams of that day, a year ago.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful nerdythangs!

Sebastian had had a terrible night. After he'd left Bard behind at the pub, he'd gone home to contemplate his decision. It all seemed fairly simple - Ciel hadn't even intended for their marriage to take place, and he obviously preferred the company of that blonde-haired living girl. As much as Sebastian wanted to keep him as his husband, he couldn't be so selfish. He should return Ciel to the living world and try to forget about those beautiful blue eyes.

And then Ciel himself had shown up, not giving him the option. The way they'd played Bach together - it made Sebastian's chest hurt just to think of it. There was a connection between them - an electricity that had sparked as their hands moved over the strings. Sebastian felt like the music hadn't stopped, even now. It still sang in his head, making him giddy with both delight and something else.

Afterwards, the boy had slept, and as he slept, he screamed. Sebastian hadn't known what to do - he'd received no answer when he knocked on the bedroom door, and eventually he'd let himself in to find Ciel, fully clothed atop the bed, whimpering in his sleep.

It was only instinct to try and comfort him. Sebastian didn't hold much hope that it would work, but it did. The corpse had smoothed the slightly damp locks from Ciel's forehead, whispered words of reassurance, and Ciel's face had relaxed. His chest rose and fell with deep, soothing breaths, and Sebastian had watched, mesmerised. He carefully settled the covers over his sleeping husband, taking one last look at those perfect features. His decision was made then; he wanted Ciel to be happy, no matter the cost. No matter what he himself would lose.

He just needed one more day to sustain him for the eternity he would have to spend alone.

***

Ciel had no idea what time it was when he woke up. All he knew was that there was a delicious smell in the air, and he was starving. His stomach gave an unhappy rumble as he extracted himself from the duvet, and he noticed again how wrinkled and grubby his clothes were as he pushed his shoes back on.

The kitchen was easy to locate - all Ciel had to do was follow the pleasant smell.

It led him downstairs, where the doors in the hallway stood open. He took the one next to the bookcase, where a crackling sound met him along with Sebastian's tall form bent over an oven.

"Ah, you're awake," said the corpse, brandishing a frying pan. "I wasn't sure what you might like for breakfast, so I made everything."

"...Everything?"

It actually seemed like he had. The countertops were filled with dishes and bowls, housing all manner of different concoctions. The wooden table in the centre of the room had three different sized spoons and a knife and fork already laid out for him, and as Ciel eyed the unusual scene, Sebastian tipped several sausages onto a plate.

"I, uhhh... hope you're hungry," Sebastian finished, possibly realising how ridiculous the whole thing looked.

"Starved," Ciel replied. He really was, though the cake from the night before was surfacing in his mind - the ugly greenish tinge, the maggot. He had no way of knowing if the food down here was safe. Or edible.

He settled for the least offensive thing - a stack of pancakes. Sebastian watched him closely as he sat down, and Ciel only realised he had an audience when a forkful of pancake was already halfway to his mouth.

"Aren't you going to eat anything yourself?" Ciel asked.

"Oh. Well, I suppose I could."

"Don't your kind eat?"

Sebastian considered, selecting a bowl of fruit and sitting opposite. "We can if we choose. It isn't a necessity though. More of a -"

"A luxury, I get it."

Ciel bit into the pancake and chewed, his eyes fixed on the chequered pattern of the kitchen walls. He nearly spat the food right out of his mouth.

Instead, he managed to swallow, gasping.

"What the - these are _amazing_ ," he croaked, hardly able to believe it. He'd never had pancakes so good. He prodded at them with the fork, and maple syrup oozed from the centre of the golden brown stack.

Sebastian seemed pleased. "You like them? They're my own recipe."

"Yeah - I just thought, you know, when Bard made that cake and all, that the food here wouldn't be..."

He let the words trail off, hoping he hadn't sounded offensive.

"Ah, Bard," Sebastian replied with a chuckle. "Just because some of us lose all manner of decorum after death, doesn't mean we all do."

"Not to mention personal hygiene," Ciel added. He had to admit, it smelled a lot better here than it had at the pub.

" _Hygiene_?" Sebastian repeated, appalled.

"Oh - no, not _you_. No, you're fine. Better than me right now, actually." Ciel shifted uncomfortably in his dirty clothes.

"I see - my fault entirely. I'll run you a bath at once - perhaps I have some clothes that might fit you."

It was doubtful, judging by Sebastian's height, but Ciel found the idea of a bath to be all too tempting.

"That'd be nice," he admitted. "Finish your breakfast first though, it's fine."

They kept up a polite conversation while Ciel finished his pancakes, and he moved on to the plate of sausages while Sebastian started on some kind of red fruit. He ate it in tiny little bites, nibbling on it like a squirrel, and Ciel found it fascinating to watch. Every so often he'd catch a flash of pink tongue as Sebastian licked the juice off his lips, and Ciel followed the movement with his eyes, transfixed. He only looked away when the corpse's lips were stained and wet, and he spent the rest of breakfast trying to ignore the strange swooping sensation in his belly, like he'd just fallen from a great height without even moving from his seat.

*

The bath was warm. Ciel sank down until just his face peaked above the surface, his parted knees bumping against the porcelain. There were fluffy towels folded next to the sink, a pile of fresh clothes set out for him, and he couldn't fault Sebastian's hospitality.

There was a creak of floorboards just outside the room, and Ciel looked over to see a shadow pass by the door. He could only imagine the corpse waiting patiently outside, staying close in case he needed anything.

Not that there was anything he could possibly need. Aside from the fresh clothes and towels, there was an assortment of bottles on the side. Ciel would never have thought that the underworld had so many brands of shampoo, but then again he'd never really considered it.

He only got out when the water was growing cold, his body scrubbed and his hair smelling like cinnamon. The towels were just as soft as they looked and, even though the clothes were a few sizes too big, at least they were clean. Ciel rolled up the sleeves of a dark grey sweater and ran his fingers through his hair before leaving the room to find Sebastian exactly where he expected him to be: loitering in the hallway.

"Was everything okay? Were the clothes satisfactory?"

"Fine," said Ciel, unsure what to do with his hands when Sebastian looked him up and down.

"You are slim," Sebastian informed him, his deep voice drawing the words out. "We'll need to get you a smaller size. The grey looks especially good on you, though."

The corpse's red eyes stayed fixed around Ciel's middle, and the boy hastened to change the subject. "If you had all these clothes lying around, then why are you still wearing that?" He asked, gesturing at Sebastian's suit. It wasn't that it didn't look good - the formal wear suited him, the black of his jacket highlighting the ethereal pallor of his skin, tuxedo slacks seeming to make his long legs go on for miles. It was just that there was a gaping hole in the fabric towards the left side of Sebastian's chest - the remnants of the shotgun blast that had killed him.

"This? Well, I suppose you're right. Yes, I should change. Perhaps you'd like to wait for me in the kitchen - please help yourself to anything you might like."

"Sure."

Ciel moved past him and gave a quick mock bow, unable to resist. He caught just a glimpse of Sebastian's surprised expression, curved lips twitching, and Ciel smirked as he made his way back downstairs.

His feet took him back to the kitchen, though he wasn't really hungry after his big breakfast. He wandered idly over to the window and peered out at the neat little garden; there was a square lawn housing an ornamental table and chairs, a large rosebush sprawling out alongside. They were white roses - Ciel's favourite.

It made him wonder about the rest of the house - he'd only seen a few of the rooms, and as the shower pipes gurgled from the bathroom above, Ciel decided he had some time to explore.

*

There were two other rooms on the first floor. Ciel tried the one nearest and discovered a living room; a squishy, black sofa was pushed against a wall, an ornamental lamp standing next to it. There was a low coffee table with an armchair on the other side, a cabinet that was free of ornaments, high curtains framing the bay windows, and Ciel found the whole room somewhat disappointing. There was no personality to it whatsoever. It shouldn't matter, of course - it was the house that Ciel was exploring, not Sebastian himself, though as Ciel wandered back into the hallway, he felt rather dissatisfied.

He wandered to the next doorway without high hopes, though that made it all the more spectacular when he took in the view.

Where the last room held no personality, this one was practically bursting with it: elegant shelves as high as the ceiling held row upon row of books. They filled the space completely, some of the spines looking so well worn that they were ripped and scuffed, a fact that Ciel loved. In the centre was a square table with a used candle and a stack of even more books, though the highlight of the room was the window seat. The curtains were drawn back to reveal a plush bench set into the bay window, cushions scattered about and a blanket folded in the corner. Ciel walked up to it and reverently fingered the cover of a book resting on the seat. It was a collection of poems by Edgar Allan Poe. Ciel smiled as he imagined Sebastian curled up here, reading the book by candlelight.

He was so captivated by it all that he didn't even see the attack coming. One minute he was moving the cushions and preparing to sit down, and the next there was something hard slamming into his chest. He stumbled back in confusion, hearing a hollow rattle as the thing bounced off him and landed on the ground. It hissed at him, and he jerked at the sound.

"Ah, I see you've met Grim."

Sebastian's voice came from the doorway, and Ciel whirled around to see the corpse tucking his wet hair behind his ears. The boy's voice almost left him - Sebastian was wearing close fitting black trousers with black boots, a white shirt and a grey waistcoat that accentuated his broad chest and thin waist. He looked stunning.

"Gr -grim?" Ciel got out, remembering the attack and turning back to the perpetrator. Down on the ground stood a petite cat, whose hackles would be raised if it had any fur. Instead, there was just a skeleton, the tiny bones of its tail thrashing back and forth.

"You scared her," Sebastian continued, coming closer.

" _I_ scared _her_?"

The cat seemed to calm down when Sebastian lowered a hand, and she butted her head against the corpse's palm.

"She hates being woken up." His voice grew softer. "Don't you, Grim? Yes, you do."

Ciel watched as Sebastian baby-talked to the cat, tickling her under the chin. Bone scraped against bone, and Ciel had no idea how that could feel good, though apparently it did. Grim purred loudly, and Sebastian turned his head.

"See? She's fine. You can stroke her, if you'd like."

"Oh, no that's -" Ciel began, but Sebastian's eyes narrowed menacingly and he quickly changed his mind. "Well okay then, maybe just for a minute."

Ciel bent over the cat and reached out his hand. He just grazed the top of Grim's skull when she turned her face to sniff at his fingers. The movement made Ciel jump, and suddenly there was another hand on his own.

"It's just her way of saying hello," Sebastian murmured, his skeletal fingers guiding Ciel to stroke Grim's head. The bone of her skull felt smooth and delicate and cold, though Sebastian's fingers felt colder - the joints tickled and pinched lightly at Ciel's skin as they moved, and Ciel shivered. It was a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one.

"That's not... so bad," Ciel admitted quietly. The corpse's hair had swung forward, and Ciel couldn't see his face.

"Yes," Sebastain agreed, and he cleared his throat as he stood up. "Yes, Grim is quite friendly. Ah, it looks like she's going back to bed."

The little cat scampered out from Ciel's touch and leapt back up onto the window seat, settling herself among the cushions.

"She'll probably still be there when we return," Sebastian chuckled, tucking his hair behind his ear again.

"Wait, return? Are we going somewhere?"

"Ah, indeed, I thought perhaps it might be nice to take a walk. There are some errands I must run, and... well, your company would certainly make them seem like less of a chore."

The flattery was all too effective.

"Oh - okay," Ciel said, feeling warm.

"Good. I'm afraid I have no shoes to offer you, but we can see about getting you some more."

"It's fine." Ciel looked down at his own feet and knew he'd never fit into a pair of Sebastian's shoes - the corpse's feet were probably three sizes bigger.

"I do have a coat though," Sebastian went on. "I'll fetch it for you."

They both made their way into the hallway, and Ciel looked back at the shelves one last time. "So... have you actually read all of these books?" He asked curiously.

"Goodness, _no_ ," Sebastian replied seriously, closing the door behind him. "Some of them are in Greek."

Ciel grinned, unsure whether Sebastian was joking or not. Dead or alive, he was still the most peculiar person Ciel had ever met.

***

There was a busy marketplace not too far away. Unlike the main street of shops, it was made up of stalls that were sprawled out in no real pattern at all, making it hard to walk in a straight line. Sebastian and Ciel weaved through the mishmash of display tables and customers, talking over the business-cries of the stall owners and the chatter of the crowd.

"I thought perhaps we might have a picnic later," Sebastian said conversationally. They paused while Ciel goggled at a stall filled with tiny black creatures that skittered back and forth on the table ('sootballs,' the sign advertised.)

"...Huh?" Ciel asked, tearing his gaze away and moving on, past a stall selling fine bone polish.

"I said that a picnic might be pleasant, if you'd like. The food market is a little further down, you can choose whatever you want."

"Okay. Thanks. Hey, what are these?"

Ciel was finding it difficult to concentrate, surrounded by so many strange and fascinating things.

"Those are replacement parts," Sebastian informed him, following his line of sight. The stall was proudly displaying a glass case of eyeballs, legs and arms of all sizes laid out on a tall stand, even a human head in a glass jar.

"Wait, spare parts? Can people just... swap bits around? Do they _work_?"

Ciel realised he had no idea what the rules were here, or what was even possible in the land of the dead.

"Indeed they do, and sometimes it becomes a necessity. However, some people prefer to let nature take its course." He glanced down subtly at his own arm, though Ciel caught the movement.

"Have you ever, uh, replaced anything?" Ciel asked, his curiosity winning over his courtesy.

"No, I have not," the corpse clipped, and Ciel found himself oddly pleased by this.

They moved on, past some kind of workshop where a skeleton was engraving a headstone with a hammer and chisel.

"So... how big is this place anyway?"

"The marketplace? It only stretches around the corner, though I expect there are larger markets further afield."

"No, I meant the whole thing. This _world_ , whatever it's called."

They stopped next to a table stacked with books. Not ordinary books, but the kind with thick, faded spines and illegible titles.

"Ah. Well, this world is just like any other - vast and diverse. Some people travel around to search for their lost loved ones, though most seem to settle where they awaken. I myself have not gone far."

He said the last part wistfully, and Ciel thought of him waiting in the forest, cold and dead in the earth.

"Did you ever want to look for anyone?" The boy went on.

Sebastian ran his flesh fingers over a few book covers, seeming to consider them, though his eyes were unfocused.

"My search was of a different sort," was all he said.

"Oh. Right."

Sebastian eventually settled on one of the books - an ancient, leathery looking thing - and they continued, passing a group of schoolboys in uniform, each of them with slightly exposed skulls peeking out of their cropped hair. Ciel wondered what had happened to them.

When he glanced back at Sebastian, the corpse was watching him. All thoughts of the schoolboys fled as those garnet eyes looked at him with interest.

"And yourself?" Sebastian asked. "Is there anyone that you might like to seek?"

It wasn't as if it hadn't crossed Ciel's mind. Every time he caught a glimpse of someone with smoky hair and a slim figure he thought of his brother, wondering if he might be around here somewhere. On the few occasions that he'd caught a glimpse his own reflection, his stomach had lurched before he'd realised it was only himself. He didn't know what he would say, even if he did manage to find his twin: _"Hey brother, funny story, I was going to take care of the family after you died, but I gave up and came here, instead"?_

"I.. uh.." Ciel faltered, trying to form a coherent response, but he was saved the trouble when he walked right into someone.

"Shit," Ciel cursed, his shoulder bouncing off a tall woman in a bright red coat. She tottered on her high heels, arms flailing, and Ciel reached out to help her when he found his hand batted away.

"What the - how dare you!" she thundered in an oddly deep voice. Her glasses were askew, but at least she seemed to have found her footing.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean -" Ciel started, feeling stupid.

"You should watch where you're going!"

"I know, I'm sorry."

The woman brushed at her coat, as if Ciel had just transferred a thousand germs onto her, though she stopped when she caught sight of Sebastian. Her demeanour changed entirely, and she stood up a little straighter, one hand moving to play with the ends of her long, scarlet hair.

"Bassy? Darling, I didn't see you there, what a pleasant surprise!"

Sebastian's pale skin seemed to grow a whole shade whiter. "Indeed," he said. There was an awkward silence while Ciel looked from Sebastian to the woman and back, before Sebastian gave a curt: "well, we must be going. Have a good day."

He reached for Ciel's hand without looking, the boy's warm fingers fitting perfectly between his own cold, flesh ones, and he marched them both away. The woman's persistent shouts of "Bassy!" made him pick up his stride, and Ciel tightened his grip as they manoeuvred through the crowds of shoppers, having to jog to keep up.

They only stopped when they reached the food market around the corner, ducking behind a confectionary stand and listening intently. All that could be heard was the normal hustle and bustle of the market - nobody seemed to be chasing them, and Ciel caught Sebastian's eye and gave a breathless laugh. The corpse cracked into a grin too, chuckling quietly as they straightened up. They released each other's hand slowly, like an afterthought.

"So - who was that?" Ciel asked, his hand still tingling with the corpse's touch.

"Just someone I'd rather avoid," Sebastian replied with a small shrug, as if it were no big deal.

Ciel remembered the way the woman had looked at Sebastian, the familiar way she'd called him _'Bassy_." "What kind of ' _someone'_?" He pressed. "She looked like she knew you pretty well."

The boy lifted his chin high so that he could meet Sebastian's eyes, but he had to crane his neck even higher when they were jostled together by the groups of passing shoppers. Their chests were nearly touching, Ciel's rising and falling with his quickened breaths, and Sebastian looked down with raised eyebrows.

"Does that bother you?"

Ciel scoffed, trying to dispel the sudden burning feeling in his chest "No," he said stubbornly.

"Well, regardless - that person wasn't someone I've ever associated with, nor would I want to."

"...Are you sure?" Ciel was uncertain. "You've got a weird smile on your face. What's going on?"

"Would you believe that I'm smiling for a different reason entirely?" Sebastian told him, laughter in his voice.

"Stop answering my questions with more questions," Ciel grumbled, though he didn't protest when Sebastian gently took his arm and began to lead them through the cluster of colourful food stands.

***

By the time they arrived in the main street a little over an hour later, Sebastian was laden with bags. Ciel mysteriously remained empty handed, though he still struggled to keep up with the longer legged man.

"Hey, slow down," He whined. "We've been walking for hours. Just because you're already dead doesn't mean you have to kill me too."

"Would you prefer I carry you?" Sebastian asked, grinning.

"Hah. Oh wait, you're serious? No."

"Well then, you'll just have to try and keep up."

Ciel gave an exaggerated wheeze, doubling over. "What's the rush? Don't we have all eternity to do this?"

Sebastian liked those words, though he didn't show it. "I'm merely conscious of the time," he said truthfully. "We had a late start and I have one more errand to run."

"More errands," Ciel groaned.

"Just one more. Actually, it might be better if I finished this myself - why don't I meet you in The Lock Up? It shouldn't take long."

"The Lock Up? Oh, right." Ciel remembered the name of the pub, and while the place wasn't really his first choice of rest stops, he really was tired.

"It's just up here," Sebastian informed him, taking them past a few familiar shop fronts and pausing  in front of the pub.

"Don't be long," Ciel found himself ordering. After spending the day together, he actually felt a bit anxious about being separated from the corpse.

"I assure you, I won't."

Ciel expected him to lean in, as he had done when they'd said goodbye in the forest, but he didn't. Sebastian merely smiled, and Ciel couldn't help but feel a curious send of disappointment as he watched his husband walk away.

***

Sebastian had lied: he didn't have one errand to run, but two. He didn't like lying, of course - marriages were supposed to be based on honesty and trust.

The fact was, this day wasn't shaping up to be what he'd expected. All he'd wanted was to spend one normal day with his husband. Just one day to commit to memory, a time that he could look back on after he'd said goodbye to the slate-haired beauty. But the boy wasn't just beautiful - he was intelligent, too - and inquisitive and interesting and _funny_. He blinked fast when he was excited and huffed like a child when he was annoyed. His hair had a tendency to flop over his right eye, his smile was slightly crooked, and his fingernails were pristine, manicured to perfection. Sebastian had noticed it all, every little thing that made Ciel who he was, and it felt worse than taking that shotgun blast to the chest.

Because it only made him love Ciel more. He could feel it, swelling in his chest. Just the thought of the boy sent sparks shooting through him, elation mixing in with a desperate need to be by his side, always. That was the part that hurt the most -he knew he still had to send him away.

The Undertaker's shop was dark inside, despite it being late afternoon. The light seemed to stop just outside the door, unable to penetrate the murky windows. Sebastian strode forward briskly, past the clutter of coffins, in no mood to play games.

"Undertaker, I know you're in here. I need to talk to you."

There was a rustling sound from the direction of the desk, and the tall figure of the Undertaker straightened up behind it. Even with the lack of candlelight, Sebastian could see the half-smile on his face.

"Well, look who's back. I wondered how long it would take you to realise."

"... Realise?"

Something was off. The Undertaker had his long fingers wrapped around a book, his silvery hair wrapped up in a messy bun on the back of his head. He never usually tied his hair up.

"Or maybe you still don't know," he said, tilting his head. His amber eyes seemed to flash, like a cat's.

"Well? Are you going to tell me, or am I to read your mind?" Sebastian demanded impatiently.

The Undertaker's smile only grew. "So it seems I have to explain after all." He lowered the book to the table and thumbed through the pages, his long nails clicking together. "I thought you might have come to this conclusion by yourself, but I suppose the heart only sees what it wants to. Come, look."

Sebastian edged closer, a frown on his face, and peered down at the page that the Undertaker had settled on. The candle on the corner of the table flared into life, though he didn't need the light to see. The words were perfectly clear.

' _Nuptials of the Dead'_ the page was entitled. Sebastian scanned it quickly, his eyes widening. "The dead... may not marry the living," he read aloud.

"Heh. Makes sense, when you think about it."

Sebastian flinched. The Undertaker had moved silently, coming to lean right over Sebastian's shoulder.

"The vows of the living have always been different to the vows of the dead. While we make our promises for all eternity, theirs only last until ' _death do you part'_ \- and it seems like death has already parted you."

"You mean..."

The Undertaker gave a low cackle. "Apparently, you were never married at all. Death had already parted you, long before you ever met."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to nerdy for helping me out, and thank you to everyone leaving kudos and comments. I really appreciate it! Also, feel free to come and send me asks on tumblr (I'm on there as dragonsploosh) I miss talking about sebaciel


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to nerdythangs for being an amazing beta!

In a way, it actually made things easier. Sebastian stared at the open book on the desk, his vision blurring as the candlelight flickered over the pages. He and Ciel weren't married. They never had been.

"Very well," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. He took a step back and looked into the Undertaker's catlike eyes. "Yes - that just makes it all the more imperative, then, that you give me the spell. The Ukrainian haunting spell."

"Oh?" The Undertaker cocked his head. "And what are you going to do with it?"

"Would it matter?"

The Undertaker's long fingernails stroked over his chin. "Heh. Seems like you're taking drastic measures - see, I was going to suggest something a lot easier." The man made his way around the desk and pulled out one of the drawers, rifling through it messily. He dragged out an impossibly huge scythe from its depths, struggling to fit the curved blade through the narrow opening.

It wasn't hard to imagine what the Undertaker's solution might be. " _No_ ," said Sebastian firmly.

"...What? You saw what it said - if the dead can't marry the living then we'll just have to fix -"

"I said no." Sebastian's voice was soft and dangerous, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. It actually made the Undertaker's smile falter, the scythe lowering in his grasp. "Here's what we're going to do," Sebastian informed him, leaving no room for disagreement. "You will give me the haunting spell and I will send Ciel back to where he belongs. That is all."

"The toll -"

" _Fuck_ the toll." Sebastian didn't feel like he could coax a laugh, even if he tried. "You owe me this."

The Undertaker's grin returned, even wider than before. "I was only going to say that the toll has already been paid - or at least, it will be. Spectacularly so, in fact."

It was an annoyingly cryptic comment. Sebastian waited for the man to elaborate, but nothing else was said on the matter - the Undertaker only hummed quietly to himself as he ripped a page from one of the books on the cluttered table, and he handed it over without a word. Sebastian took it carefully between his forefinger and thumb, holding it up to peer at the small paragraph printed in neat letters.

"That's it?"

"That's it," the Undertaker confirmed, his silvery bangs swaying as he gave a slight nod. "I'll be seeing you real soon, Sebastian."

Sebastian tucked the page neatly in the breast pocket of his shirt, underneath his waistcoat. "I doubt it," he said evenly.

He didn't expect he'd be seeing anyone at all, after today - when this was over, and Ciel was safely back home, Sebastian fully intended to return to the forest and surrender himself to the earth. At least there, he wouldn't have to feel this horrible, wrenching ache in his chest - he could just be dead, the way he should have been all along.

***

Ciel didn't recognise the person behind the bar. He seemed to be around Ciel's age, a straw hat perched on his head and a sunny smile on his face.

"Hi!" He chirped when Ciel took a seat. "I haven't seen you around! What's your name?"

"That there's the new Mr. Michaelis," came a familiar voice. Bard rounded the corner, a cigarette in his mouth and a drink in his hand.

"Oh - just Ciel's fine," he told them shyly. Ciel Michaelis just didn't sound right. Maybe Sebastian Phantomhive would be better?

"I'm Finny," said the sunny-faced boy. "Hey, does that mean you're Sebastian's husband? I've heard so much about you!"

He reached over and grabbed Ciel's hand, shaking it exuberantly. Ciel squawked, his arm feeling like it was about to be wrenched from its socket.

"Alright, knock it off," said Bard, and Ciel was grateful when his hand got released. He opened and closed his fingers, just to make sure they still worked.

"Ah, yeah, nice to meet you," he said uncertainly, and Finny beamed at him.

"So, where is your new beau?" Bard asked mildly, sitting down on the barstool next to Ciel and taking a hearty sip from his glass. There was a lipstick stain on the rim.

"Uhh, running an errand," Ciel answered, realising that he didn't even know what it was.

"An errand, eh?"

"...Yeah."

"Hey, is that his coat?" Finny chimed in.

The long, rolled-up sleeve of the black trench coat had slipped down Ciel's wrist during Finny's handshake, and he struggled to push it back up again. Ciel nodded, suddenly very conscious of the heavy fabric on his shoulders.

"Wearing each other's clothes already? My, don't you move fast," Bard grinned, wiggling his eyebrows, and Ciel felt his face heat up.

"Oh, leave him alone you two."

Mey-Rin seemed to appear out of nowhere, plonking herself down on the other side of Ciel.

" _What_ , we were just being friendly," Bard told her.

"Right, 'cos you're _so_ bloody friendly," Mey-Rin said with an eye roll, and Bard gave an indignant _'hey!'_. "Just don't listen to them," the maid continued, turning to face Ciel. "I think it's great that you're getting along so well."

"Not running away any more, at least," Bard added, nudging Ciel's elbow.

"Oh, you ran away?" Finny asked innocently.

It felt a bit like Ciel was being interrogated. The three were all looking at him with fascination, as if he were the latest exhibit at a zoo.

"Err, no. Not running," Ciel informed them.

"So, you made up?" Mey-Rin leaned forward eagerly. "After you went to his house?"

Ciel opened and closed his mouth.

"Well?"

The words tumbled out. "I guess, yeah. I mean..." He was nervous. They all just looked so interested, hanging on his every word. "I just didn't know him so well, before, but - I think I have a better idea of who he is, now, so... Yeah."

They didn't seem any less engrossed, despite his babbling.

"...And?"

"And he _loves_ him," Mey-Rin hissed, smiling.

"What? No, I didn't say that," Ciel retorted, though a thrill shot through him at the thought.

"Yes you do, you're blushing," the maid told him, and Bard snorted.

" _Now_ who need to leave the kid alone, woman?"

The two bickered back and forth while Ciel sat awkwardly between them, and Finny leaned across the bar, taking no notice.

" _Do_ you love him though?" He asked quietly, a dreamy look on his face.

Suddenly, Ciel wasn't so sure. He remembered the delight on Sebastian's face in the forest, the moonlight making his black hair shine. The way they'd played music together, the way it had made him feel. The books at his house, his cooking, his laughter, his hand holding Ciel's as they ran through the marketplace. "...Maybe," Ciel found himself saying.

The others had gone quiet, though Finny let out a small squeak and bobbed up and down happily.

"I told you," Mey-Rin whispered loudly to Bard, and suddenly they were all laughing, even Ciel.

***

When Sebastian arrived at The Lock Up, Ciel was nowhere to be seen. The corpse strode over to the bar where Finny and Bard were taking orders from a group of skeletons, and he set down his many shopping bags to wait.

"Over there," Bard said, barely looking up from the beer tap.

Sebastian turned. There were lots of regulars that liked to spend time in the pub; many of them had nowhere else to go, and the local children were no different. In life, they had all belonged to the same orphanage - five of them, always together. There had been some kind of tragedy, Sebastian wasn't sure what, but it must have been awful. All five children seemed to have permanent expressions of misery on their faces, still grieving over their eternal loss.

 Sebastian watched now, dumbfounded, as those children laughed. Ciel was stood amongst them, and they were currently taking turns to throw a hoop over a bottle. It looked like there had been more games; four chairs were stacked together, a blanket thrown over it, a car tyre and several sticks all lying at their feet, and the youngest child, a glum little girl called Doll, was currently slapping Ciel's upturned palm.

"You sure know how to pick 'em," Bard grinned, and Sebastian nodded slowly, unable to tear his eyes away.

***

"Let's put more bottle on!" Wendy cried, standing in the way as her brother tried to throw the hoop.

"Hey, it's my turn!" Peter whined.

"I have another idea," Ciel told them. "What if I get some plastic cups and we knock them over with a ball, like skittles?"

"What are skittles, mister?" Asked Doll, her eyes widening.

"You've never played _skittles_?"

The children all shook their heads.

"Okay, I'll show you. Just wait there."

Ciel turned and immediately noticed Sebastian, standing rigidly next to the bar. He raised his skeletal hand and gave a pathetic wave, and Ciel wondered how long he'd been there.

"Hey," Ciel said, closing the distance between them. "Where did you go? You took ages."

Sebastian smiled. "I couldn't leave you with such ill-fitting attire now, could I? I hope I got the correct size."

He leaned down amongst the shopping bags and pulled a few out, handing them to Ciel. The boy peered inside and saw fabric.

"You bought me new clothes?"

"Indeed. Shoes, too - though it seems you've been kept well entertained in my absence."

Ciel glanced back at the children. "Oh - they looked bored. There weren't any toys to play with, so I thought - well, you know. Anyway, thank you for these." He raised the bags and passed them back.

"Certainly."

"I just have to finish something, and then we can go."

Ciel leaned over the bar and looked around, finding what he needed. "Hey Bard - can I borrow those cups? The ones over there."

Bard handed them over without a word - he'd supplied Ciel with a great number of strange things in the past hour, never questioning anything.

"Thanks!"

Ciel passed Sebastian with the stack of cups, and the tall corpse followed in his footsteps like an obedient dog.

"Okay, I'm back," Ciel said to the children.

"Hello, Black," came the chorus of young voices, and he realised they were speaking to Sebastian.

"Black?" Ciel asked, and Sebastian only nodded. It actually seemed like a good nickname for the corpse, and Ciel laughed. "Okay, Black it is. Anyway, I was going to show you how to play skittles."

He set up the cups, and they all had a go at knocking them over with the ball he'd made earlier out of a rock and a few dozen elastic bands. A gangly, red haired child called Joker won, though Ciel suspected Sebastian wasn't trying very hard.

Doll looked like she was going to cry when Ciel said they had to leave, but he knelt down and spoke to her in a soft voice.

"Hey, it's okay. Have you still got your chalk? You can play those games I showed you, and when I come back I'll teach you some more, okay?"

"Okay," she said, sniffling, and launched her spindly arms around Ciel. He wasn't entirely sure what to do in this situation, so he settled for patting her back awkwardly before extracting himself and straightening up.

"I'll see you soon," Ciel waved quickly, taking a step back, and Sebastian added his goodbye.

"Bye, Black. Bye, Smile," the children chanted, and Ciel was pleased to see how happy they all looked now. They seemed completely different to the glum little kids that he'd met earlier.

"Later," Bard added when they passed the bar, and Sebastian collected up all the bags as they bid goodbye to the others.

It was only when they got outside that Ciel turned to the corpse, beaming.

"They called me _Smile_ ," he bragged, delighted.

"Hmm, yes - and I don't believe smiling is a concept they're all too familiar with," Sebastian told him. "You must have made quite an impression."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. I wonder, have you ever considered opening a toy shop?"

Ciel almost stopped short. He glanced up at Sebastian's face, those handsome features seeming all too sincere, crimson eyes gazing back.

"That's... It's weird, that's what I've always wanted to do," he admitted.

Sebastian smiled. "I'm sure you'd be excellent at it. The way you made those toys for the children, you're a natural."

Ciel had spent so long listening to the multitude of reasons he should never open a toy shop, it was weird to hear the encouragement. His ambitions had been worn down over the years by his parents' harsh words, and the added responsibilities of being a future Earl had almost quashed them completely. Ciel never thought he'd get a chance to return to those dreams, but they were starting to come back to him now. A spark had ignited inside of him when he'd made those toys for the children, and Sebastian's supportive smile only made it burn all the brighter.

" _Thank you_ ," he replied, putting real gratitude into the words.

"What for?" Sebastian asked, tilting his head as they made their way towards the park. His hair swung along with his steps, and he tucked it behind his ears, a habit that Ciel was finding more and more adorable.

Ciel looked away, concentrating hard on the path. "You know," he shrugged, his heart thumping hard in his chest. "Everything."

***

Sebastian seemed more distant when they got to the park. It was evening now, and the light was growing dimmer. The soft yellow of the sky had turned into orange, which was now fading into the glowing blues and purples that Ciel had seen the night before. It was beautiful, but Ciel couldn't appreciate it when Sebastian was being so quiet.

"Are you okay?" Ciel asked him, feeling stupid. Maybe he'd said something wrong without realising - he did that sometimes.

"I'm fine," Sebastian replied. He pulled a picnic blanket from one of the bags and settled it on the grass next to the duck pond. A few skeletal ducks quacked softly, huddled together under a tree near the bank.

"Okay," Ciel said helplessly. He knelt on the blanket as Sebastian sorted through the food they'd bought at the market, setting everything around neatly. Ciel watched in silence until he was done, and only then did Sebastian join him on the blanket, kneeling gracefully. "Are you sure?" The boy asked, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Sebastian met his eyes, looking troubled. "Oh- I do apologise if I've worried you. Perhaps there a few things on my mind, but nothing of importance." He gave a small smile and pushed the sandwiches towards Ciel. "Please, eat. I assure you, everything will be fine."

"Okay," Ciel agreed, feeling better. "But if you ever want to talk about anything - well, you can."

"As can you," Sebastian told him, more warmth to his voice now. "Here, have a sausage roll."

It was a relief when Sebastian began fussing over him, recommending different things and putting them on Ciel's plate, regardless of the reply.

"Hey, stop throwing food at me." Ciel griped, the contents of his plate looking like a small mountain next to Sebastian's empty one. "You're like my mother," he said with a snort.

"I just want to make sure you're eating properly."

"Now you sound even more like her!"

Sebastian relented with a chuckle, and Ciel quickly siphoned some of his excess food onto the corpse's plate. Sebastian tried to protest, but Ciel didn't let him.

"No, you have to eat, that's not fair."

Sebastian picked at a sausage roll, frowning at it. "I think I'll just have an orange," he said.

"Urgh, all you eat is fruit. You're like a squirrel."

"I don't believe that Squirrels actually eat fruit..."

Ciel relaxed as they chatted. It was easy. Even mundane things seemed interesting when Sebastian was the one talking about them, and Ciel felt almost too eager to respond, trying to think of his best stories and funniest anecdotes. He was laughing too hard himself, and he knew it, but he couldn't help it: the whole thing felt like a drug in his system. Every time he caught the corpses eye he felt lightheaded, like he might just float away, and his blood sizzled and sang every time Sebastian laughed at one of his jokes.

 He found himself shifting closer. Sebastian did the same, mirroring his movements without meaning to. Even like this, leaning on one arm, his long legs tucked around himself, he was taller than Ciel.

"This is nice," Ciel told him, feeling a rush of adrenaline. Their knees were almost touching.

"The picnic? I'm glad you like it."

It wasn't what Ciel had meant, but he wasn't brave enough to make the correction. "Yeah," he said instead. "Better than any other one I've been to."

"You've attended lots of picnics?"

"Well, 'garden parties,' my mother used to call them. It just meant we had to go around all the noble houses and pretend to be impressed, that sort of thing. I hated them, but my brother never seemed to mind."

"Ah, so you _do_ have a brother."

Ciel realised the slip and took a hasty glug of his drink, some kind of elderflower juice in a flimsy plastic cup.

"And what of your fiancé?" Sebastian asked when it became apparent that Ciel wasn't going to comment. "What did she think of them?"

Ciel let out a huff of a laugh. "Oh, Elizabeth loved them. Anything to wear a pretty dress, I suppose. I almost feel bad - I bet she had something magnificent lined up for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

Sebastian leaned forward, and this time their knees did brush.

"Uh, yeah. That's when we were supposed to get married - midday, at the old church. Guess I won't be making it."

"I see." There was an unreadable expression on Sebastian's face.

"It's fine. Really."

Sebastian looked away. "It will be," he replied, and he sounded so certain that Ciel's heart gave a leap.

"Exactly."

The boy flashed a wide grin, unable to help it. He felt, for the first time in over a year, that everything was going to be okay - maybe even better than okay. He actually had a chance of real happiness here, and it wasn't something he intended to waste.

*

The food had been good. Not as good as Sebastian's breakfast had been, but still good nonetheless. Ciel had sagged down onto the picnic blanket, feeling far too full to move, and Sebastian had joined him, despite having only eaten the barest amount. They had laid there, side by side, watching as the sky became fully dark.

"Are you tired?" Sebastian asked. He was as straight as a pillar, arms stiff by his side, as if he'd forgotten how to lie down properly.

That wasn't a problem for Ciel. "No," he lied. His eyes were lidded sleepily, his limbs spread out like a starfish. His fingers were inches away from Sebastian's skeletal ones, and he could feel how close they were without having to look.

"Perhaps we should be heading home."

"Mmmm? Home."

Ciel's body felt heavy, his mind thick. Dreams mixed with reality, and images of cats and books joining with his vision of the night sky.

There was a rustling sound, the blanket shifting, and Ciel's head flopped to the side in protest. He watched blearily as Sebastian began packing up the plates, separating the rubbish and tidying everything away neatly.

"Awhh," Ciel whined.

Sebastian stood up and held out a hand. "Come now," he said softly. "You should get some rest."

"I _am_ having rest," Ciel mumbled. "Right here. It's nice."

He shut his eyes, and something cold touched his arm.

"Do I need to carry you?" Came that soothing voice again, and Ciel was lost to it, too relaxed to fight the pull of sleep any more.

Sebastian hoisted him up as if he weighed nothing. Ciel grumbled quietly, but his eyes stayed closed, even when Sebastian had to lean down to shove the picnic blanket back into one of the bags, manoeuvring everything with remarkable skill.

He set off for the house with multiple bags hanging from each elbow, and Ciel in his arms. The boy felt so tiny like this; delicate, with fine bones like a bird, though he felt warm against Sebastian's chest. His cheek rested on the corpse's shoulder, and he was breathing softly against Sebastian's neck. It was distracting. It was wonderful.

But it was also terrible.

The entire walk home felt like a walk to the electric chair. Sebastian reminded himself that this would be over as soon as he reached his front door; he couldn't keep the perfect creature in his arms, but neither could he stop himself from holding him that bit closer.

Ciel seemed to snuggle into his shoulder just as he did this, and a wounded sound was wrenched from Sebastian's throat. This was all he would ever know of love - just this one day, where he cooked breakfast for his husband and went shopping at the market and had a picnic in the park. Normal things, that hadn't felt normal at all. They'd felt like everything he'd ever wanted.

But Ciel would never be his.

Sebastian stroked him thumb in gentle circles on Ciel's arm, tilting his head to smell the fresh cinnamon scent of the boy's hair. He could see his house now. He was resolved to let Ciel have a good night's sleep, and then, in the morning, he would take him back to where he belonged, in plenty of time for his wedding.

And Ciel slept on, dreaming sweet dreams instead of his usual nightmares, unaware that by this time tomorrow he would be married for real, in a church surrounded by his friends and family instead of the frost and fog of the forest.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the beta, nerdythangs! You rock!

Elizabeth looked beautiful. She knew she did; her mother's wedding dress had been altered, and now the white lace of the bodice flowed into a full length satin skirt, the layers of organza making it puff out into a perfect circle. Her hair fell in loose ringlets, a flowered clip holding part of it up, and she had opted for low heels, which were hidden beneath the vast skirts.

Her seamstress, Nina, stood behind her, tightening the corset back of her dress and pulling at her already tiny waist. Elizabeth stared at her own reflection in the full-length mirror and held her ground, standing firm against the harsh tugs of the corset strings. She knew the girl in her reflection was beautiful - exactly how a bride should look on her wedding day. But she barely even recognised herself.

"You've lost weight again," came an irritated voice behind her.

"Sorry, Nina."

"Pfft, you'll be sorry if I can't get this tight enough."

It felt pretty tight already, but Elizabeth said nothing as the tugging continued. She continued to peer at herself in the mirror, feeling sick - if she looked hard enough, she could almost imagine her features blurring, skin on fire, blisters bubbling, blood oozing from every pore. She squinted harder and there was just a black blur, her body turning to ashes, though when she opened them again she saw just a beautiful bride, pure and pristine. It didn't make sense  - how could she feel so wretched inside and not have some terrible injury to show for it?

The gentle knock at the door gave Lizzie a welcome reprieve from her thoughts.

"We're busy!" Nina yelled, just as Lizzie called "come in."

The door opened and Lizzie's friend Sieglinde stood there in a frilled dress, her short hair held out of her face by two blue hair pins. She steadied herself on her crutches, taking a small step into the room.

"Oh, Lizzie you look wonderful," she said, but she sounded sad.

"Stay still," Nina snapped as Lizzie tried to turn around.

"Sorry. Oh, it's so good to see you, Glinde. When did you get here?"

"Just now - I convinced Wolf to let me see you first, he's got the carriage waiting outside."

The brunette took a few more wobbly steps, coming to a stop beside the mirror.

"Well, I'm glad you're here," said Lizzie. She couldn't quite meet her friend's eyes - she thought she might cry if she did.

It got even harder when Sieglinde took a hand from her crutch and laid it gently on Lizzie's arm.

"Listen," Sieglinde said in a low voice. She shot a look towards Nina, seeming hesitant, but went on anyway. "Your mother told me what happened. I can't believe it." She leaned in closer to her taller friend's shoulder. "You should know - it isn't too late to back out now. I can go down there and tell everyone to go away, we can call it off." Her eyes were shining. "You don't have to do this."

It was time for Elizabeth to practice her lines. She'd come up with them the day before, during the torturous second rehearsal. Quite a few people had come to watch again, and they were horrified to learn that Ciel hadn't returned, and even more so that the Baron Kelvin had taken his place. Prince Soma had begged to know what was going on, tears rolling down his face, Agni was unable to produce any of his usual cheer, and even Charles Grey and Phipps had expressed their condolences, the former looking far too amused for Elizabeth's liking.

But she had told them all the same thing.

" _It's okay. The Baron is an honourable man, and I'm happy to be marrying someone of such high esteem. I know he will make a wonderful husband, and I can only pray that someday Ciel will be as happy as I am."_

She'd said it all with such a beaming smile that even Charles Grey had looked stunned, and she delivered the same lines now with as much sincerity as she could muster.

"A-are you sure?" Sieglinde asked, wide-eyed.

Nina had finished tying the bow at the back of Lizzie's dress, and she stepped back to inspect the dress, instructing Lizzie to twirl.

She giggled as she did - a forced sound, even to her own ears.

"Of _course_ I'm sure, Glinde," she said, letting her skirts swish around her as she stopped. "I'll be a Baroness with my own estate, and I have the perfect dress and the perfect friends, all here to celebrate my wedding day. What could be better?"

Sieglinde looked at her for a moment, and then she smiled. "Oh - that great! If you're happy, then I'm happy."

"I am," Elizabeth told her.

She had to be. There was no other option.

***

Ciel woke up to warm sheets and soft pillows. He yawned, stretching - he'd slept right through the night, a deep, pleasant slumber. He'd even had good dreams instead of his usual nightmares - dreams of warm fires and violin music and hands with black nails.

The boy gave a half-smile, lazily untangling himself from the bed covers and remembering just how he'd gotten there.

Sebastian had carried him all the way home. Ciel could only remember Sebastian setting him on the bed and easing his shoes off, but he knew he'd been carried, and he wished he'd been awake to feel it. Ciel loved being taken care of, and when he'd asked for more, Sebastian had obliged by tucking him into bed, bending low and wrapping the covers around him. There'd been a lingering moment of hesitation, and Ciel had thought for one heart-stopping second that he was going to kiss him, but Sebastian had taken a polite step back instead, bidding him goodnight and striding from the room. Ciel wanted to call after him, but he didn't. Instead, he only snuggled down further, his mind lingering on Sebastian's lips and wondering what the next day might bring.

He was wide awake now.

 The carpet was soft under Ciel's bare feel as he padded from the room, though he stopped short when he discovered the tall chair in the landing. There appeared to be a set of clothes laid out on the seat, a note resting on top.

Ciel picked it up, his eyes flitting over the elaborate swirls of handwriting.

_'Good morning, Ciel,'_ it read, ' _I hope that you'll find the clothes suitable. You'll find me downstairs, when you are ready. - Sebastian._ '

Ciel's stomach flip-flopped as his eyes scanned the page again. He stroked his thumb gently over the looping 'C' of his name, finding the beautiful script to suit Sebastian perfectly. There was something intimate about viewing another person's handwriting - like discovering a tiny window into their soul. He reached Sebastian's name and traced that too, loving the intricate way the 'S" was formed, the black ink forming a tiny flick at the end of the letter. He held the note close to his chest when he was done, grinning like a delighted schoolgirl.

If this was how it felt to be in love, then Ciel never wanted to feel anything else.

*

The clothes were very much like the ones Ciel had worn to the wedding rehearsal two days ago. Everything was exquisitely made - the charcoal colour of the trousers and jacket complimented the softer grey of the waistcoat, and a blue cravat sat neatly under the collar. Ciel had fastened the sleeves of the crisp shirt with a new pair of cufflinks - silver, with delicate blue stones set into them. Ciel wondered if they'd been chosen just for him.

He made his way downstairs and readjusted his cravat quickly, feeling the butterflies flutter around in his belly, though they soared right into his chest when he came in sight of the corpse: Sebastian was in the kitchen wearing black trousers and a white shirt, a black sleeve band stretched around the bicep of his flesh arm. He was stirring something on the stove, and it made the muscles in his shoulder visibly swell and shift under the thin fabric.

Ciel swallowed. "Good morning," he said, as casually as he could.

Sebastian turned his head, his black bangs swaying. "Good morning," he nodded back, but he didn't smile. "I took the liberty of deciding your breakfast. You'll have a long day ahead of you, but porridge should provide enough energy to see you through until the afternoon."

Ciel wasn't sure what he was more disappointed about: the lack of reaction to his outfit, or the prospect of porridge. Sebastian had gone back to stirring, and didn't notice the pout on the boy's face.

"But I don't like porridge," Ciel said eventually.

"I didn't think you would. That's why I intend to add a copious amount of golden syrup."

 That perked Ciel up a bit. He did like syrup.

"So what are we doing today?" He asked, dragging back a chair and sitting at the table.

"Hmm?"

"You said we'd be busy."

Sebastian bent down and opened one of the lower cupboards, and Ciel found himself being treated to a wonderful view. His jaw almost dropped when he saw the slight way Sebastian's back arched, black slacks drawing tight over the two rounded globes of his ass cheeks, but then he was straightening up with a bowl in his hand and Ciel looked away.

"Ah yes, I only meant that you'll be needing something substantial." There was a clattering sound and the 'pop' of a bottle being opened before the corpse strode over. "Here we are. Now, there is more syrup if you should need it, but -" There was a thick pause  and Ciel felt eyes on him as Sebastian set the bowl down on the table. "Are you alright? You look a bit flushed."

"I'm fine," Ciel said quickly. He pulled the porridge towards him and busied himself with stirring in the syrup. He peered down in disgust at the lumpy consistency, prodding at it with the spoon.. "Aren't you subjecting yourself to any of this?" He huffed.

"Alas, no. I'll be subjecting myself to coffee instead."

"Wait, you have _coffee_? And you didn't tell me?"

The coffee made the porridge taste a bit better. Really, Ciel had to admit that it wasn't that bad - not like the porridge his governess had forced him to eat as a child. While that had been gritty and thin, this was rich, warm and sweet. Not that he was about to admit it.

"There, I ate your porridge," he grumbled, pushing the bowl away. "Now, are you going to tell me what we're doing today?"

"In due time," Sebastian told him, sipping his coffee.

"Oh, so you're making me wait?" Ciel pushed, an impish smile playing about his lips.

Sebastian actually went as far as to pull out a silver pocket watch and flip it open, glancing down and then snapping it shut again. "Not for much longer," he replied, and Ciel gave a breathless laugh.

Whatever he was planning for today, it seemed like Sebastian wanted to be punctual. That was fine with Ciel - as long as he was going to be rewarded for his patience.

*

The Lock Up was full of its usual morning regulars. Bard was serving behind the bar while Mey-Rin stood on the other side, using a ragged cloth to polish the sword sticking out of her chest. Finny was attempting to help, dabbing at the handle jutting out of Mey-Rin's back, though every so often he would jerk it too hard, much to the maid's annoyance.

"I said be gentle," she complained. "You'll have the whole bloody thing out in a minute!"

"Sorry!"

"Heh, I doubt it," Bard chimed in. "That thing's stuck fast, trust me. I've tried."

"Oh, you lot are the worst," Mey-Rin complained.

The pub door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air before a familiar figure wandered in. He wore a black robe, sleeves far too long, silvery hair covering his eyes.

"Undertaker?" Bard called out, surprised.

The strange man strode over, seeming to glide along the ground in his floor-length robe.

"Hahaa, there you are," the Undertaker cackled, as if Bard ever went anywhere else.

"Hi," Finny said politely, and Mey-Rin gave a little wave, both just as surprised to see the man out of his dingy shop.

"So, can I get you a drink?" asked Bard.

"Mmm, I do like whisky. That isn't why I'm here though - I was just wondering if Sebastian had done the deed yet."

"The deed, eh?" Bard obediently reached for the bottles, selecting the whisky amongst the untidy selection of drinks. He didn't bother with a glass, just plonking the entire bottle on the bar in front of him. "Wouldn't know about that. Bastard never tells me anything about his personal life."

Mey-Rin giggled, looking a bit flushed. "Ooooh this is rather lecherous, it is."

The Undertaker cackled, pulling the cap off the whisky and taking a hearty swig. "Not what I meant, but I like the way you think. No, I was talking about Sebastian taking the kid back home."

There was a pause. "Ciel? _Home_?" Finny asked, confused.

The Undertaker pointed at the ceiling with one long nail, his voluminous sleeve siding down his skinny wrist. "To the land of the living. Where he belongs."

Mey-Rin shook her head vehemently. "Sebastian wouldn't do that," she said in disbelief. "He _loves_ him."

"All the more reason to send him away, apparently," the Undertaker said with a shrug. "Something about a girl..."

"The breather?" Bard had abandoned serving drinks, and all three of them were hanging on the Undertaker's every word.

"Sure, the breather. Sebastian's sending the kid back to be with her. Shame really - that wispy little thing did make me laugh."

"Wait, Sebastian thinks Ciel would rather be with _her_?"

Finny, Mey-Rin and Bard all looked at each other in horror. The same thoughts were running through each of their heads: of Ciel the day before, how he'd confessed his feelings for Sebastian. They'd all looked on when Sebastian had returned from his errand, watching as the newlyweds had greeted each other, and it was undeniable what they'd seen - Ciel's coy smiles, Sebastian's eyes sparkling. It was real. There was love there - not just for Sebastian, but for both of them.

"That dense idiot," Bard muttered, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

"But - but what should we do?" Finny asked, sounding just as distressed as the others felt. "He can't go through with this - we have to stop him!"

"Right!" Mey-Rin agreed. "We need to get there and tell him... Uhh, something."

"Yes, exactly," Bard nodded.

The eager plans of the three were only drowned out by the Undertaker's laughter. "Now _that's_ why I'm here," he admitted, raising his whisky in a toast. "See - I just _knew_ that this would be fun."

*

"It's time," Sebastian said grimly.

He'd been very quiet since breakfast, even when Ciel had asked him how his outfit looked. All he'd received was a matter-of-fact: "I see that my estimated measurements were correct," and then lapsed back into silence.

Ciel had wondered at first if maybe he was nervous - Ciel himself felt the knots tightening in his stomach whenever he was around Sebastian. Still, the tense atmosphere had gradually become annoying, and Ciel had gone off in a sulk to look at the books in the library. He'd completely ignored Sebastian when he'd followed him in, and that's where he'd stayed, leafing through the copy of _'The Raven'_ that was still laid out on the window seat.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Ciel asked eventually, refusing to look up from the book.

"Indeed - I said it's time to leave."

Ciel only shrugged. If Sebastian thought he could ignore him all morning and then start giving out orders, he had another thing coming.

The click of the pocket watch came again, and Sebastian sighed. "I really must insist."

"Why?" Ciel asked, finally looking up. Sebastian was stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, some kind of paper clutched in his skeletal hand. "What exactly are you insisting? You haven't even told me what we're doing."

Sebastian's adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. "It's a surprise," he said.

Ciel ' _hmph_ 'd. "Is that why you've barely spoken to me today?" He sounded petulant, he knew it, but he couldn't help it. It was like being teased in the worst way, having Sebastian so close but so distant.

"You're angry? Yes, of course you are," he muttered, nodding.

Ciel raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's good to see you can still hold a conversation with _yourself_ , at least."

Sebastian looked slightly less composed than he had a moment ago. There was a crease between his eyebrows and his shoulders were sagging. He looked at Ciel as if he was going to say something, but the words died on his lips and he looked down at the ground. "Come here," he said softly, and spread his arms out.

Ciel almost dropped the book in shock.

"You... you want me to..."

Sebastian gave a weak smile and gestured towards himself with his flesh fingers, an obvious invitation.

Ciel felt like a deer caught in headlights. He could hardly believe that the corpse would be so forward - his annoyance with Sebastian evaporated on the spot and was replaced with a pathetic kind of longing.

"O-okay," Ciel replied faintly.

His head felt light as he got up, but his feet felt heavy. He dropped the book onto the window seat behind him, next to a sleeping Grim, and practically stumbled over to Sebastian. Everything moved in slow motion; Sebastian's face only looked prettier the closer he got, all pale skin and dark eyelashes.

He hesitated when his shiny new shoes were only a few inches away from Sebastian's black boots. He looked at them as though they were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen, listening to his own pulse thump in his ears. One of the boots moved, sliding forward, and he met it with a shuffle, closing the distance into Sebastian's arms.

It wasn't warm, but that didn't matter. It was everything he'd been imagined it would be. Sebastian's chest was firm and solid, Ciel's head barely reaching the corpse's chin. Strong arms wrapped comfortingly around him, and Ciel returned the embrace as if he was in shock, his hands fisting in the material of Sebastian's shirt. He let out a rush of a breath when he felt Sebastian rest his cheek on top of his head.

The pocket watch was tucked away again, but the room was so quiet that Ciel could hear the seconds ticking by as they stood there. He snuggled in closer, pressing his face against Sebastian's collarbone and breathing in deeply. He'd never really noticed Sebastian to have a particular scent before, but then he'd never been this close before either. Now he could detect subtle hints of trees and earth, a scent that made him think of midnight in the woods. He drank it in like he needed it to breathe, tilting his head forward and practically purring when felt a hand gently cup the back of his neck, fingers stroking through the fine hair at his nape.

The moment was perfect, but it was over as quickly as it came. There was a rustling noise from behind Ciel's shoulder, and Sebastian's head moved ever so slightly, his chin dragging against Ciel's hair. Ciel was just about to ask if everything was okay, when the rustling stopped and Sebastian spoke.

The words were eerie, spoken in some foreign language, and Sebastian said them in a low , guttural voice that vibrated in his chest. Ciel felt them in his very bones, and he tried to jerk back but Sebastian's flesh hand kept him tightly in place.

"Sebastian - mmmph!"

"Stay still, it'll be okay," Sebastian murmured next to his ear, and the darkness closed in on them, that now-familiar tugging sensation jerking behind Ciel's naval as the ground rose up to meet them.

*

Elizabeth was early. It hardly mattered - everyone else had arrived early as well, and the guests settled into their seats long before twelve. Elizabeth thought that they were probably just eager to see the show, and she couldn't help but imagine how they would stare, the way they'd gossip amongst themselves. That was why she'd asked the carriage driver to set off so soon - she just wanted to just get this day over and done with.

The carriage came to a gentle halt outside the church, and Elizabeth adjusted her false smile just before the door opened. Her father stood there, not looking at all surprised at her early arrival. He offered his hand and bravely attempted to smile back as she took it.

"Elizabeth. You look just as beautiful as your mother did the day we got married."

"Thank you, Father."

She really did feel as though she were in a play, struggling to remember her lines. Alexis escorted her to the church doors and held one open so that she could enter the tiny foyer, closing the chilly winter air off behind them. Elizabeth let go of her father's arm briefly while he eased the interior doors open a crack, giving some kind of signal, and then everything went quiet.

"Here we go," the man said, holding his arm out once more. "Not long now."

_'Until my life is ruined_ ,' Elizabeth silently added. She took a deep breath, feeling the muscles beginning to ache in her cheeks as she continued to smile. Then the music started, and the doors were thrown open wide as she took the first step down the aisle, her father at her side and the Baron Kelvin waiting for her at the altar.

*

It must have snowed during the night. Not much, just enough to leave a fresh dusting of white flakes clinging to everything, . Ciel breathed in through his teeth, absently feeling them sting with the cold, and he glanced around wildly, trying to get his bearings. Sebastian was with him, standing stiffly, and they appeared to be around the side of a church, next to a small service door that was sunk into the stone of the building. Ciel realised he recognised the church.

"What are we doing _here_?" He asked, bewildered.

"Well, it wouldn't do for the groom to see the bride before the wedding."

Ciel turned, and only now could he hear the music ; the organ was playing faintly within, and the tune was one that everyone knew, no matter how young or old. The Wedding March.

"Quick, you must hurry," Sebastian said, moving towards the door.

Ciel could hardly comprehend what was happening. He'd just been wrapped up in Sebastian's embrace, feeling himself fall even deeper for the man that had saved him from his hopelessness, and now suddenly he was here. The last place he wanted to be.

"Sebastian... Wh-what..."

The corpse looked back at him and gave the most heartbreaking smile he'd ever seen. It was wide and true, his cheekbones standing out in sharp relief, but his lips wobbled at the corners.

"It's okay," Sebastian said, looking right into Ciel's eyes. Sebastian's crimson ones were shining, and he blinked quickly. "It's okay," he repeated. "I've realised my mistake. I should never have taken you away from your family, and for that I apologise. Still, there is one thing I will never be sorry for, and that is our meeting."

Ciel shook his head in denial, his throat feeling thick, his hands starting to shake. "What are you saying?"

"You set me free." Sebastian went on, emotion making his voice waver. "For so long I've lived in darkness, only knowing grief and loneliness, the years passing by in a meaningless blur. And then I met you. You showed me that love is real - that I could _feel_ it, really feel it. I love you Ciel, but you are not mine. The living cannot marry the dead."

"But... You and me..."

"Are not married," Sebastian told him. "Which leaves you free to move on and marry your true love. Don't worry about me - I'll never forget you, and everything you've given me. You set me free, Ciel," he said again, placing his skeletal hand over his broken heart. "And now I can do the same for you."

*

Elizabeth had managed to keep a smile on her face, even as she'd met the eyes of the people in the crowd. There was Soma, wearing a brightly coloured kurta, though his expression looked more like he was attending a funeral than a wedding. Sieglinde and Wolfram looked just as solemn, the huge man resting a supportive hand on his niece's shoulder. Both Charles Grey and Phipps were in their full uniform, complete with thin swords strapped to their waists in elegant scabbards, a fact which made Elizabeth's heart give a sickening lurch. She should have been wearing that uniform and fighting for the Queen - not walking down an aisle and becoming some middle-aged man's wife.

She spotted her Aunt and Uncle just before she reached the altar. Vincent and Rachel looked pale and drawn, and Lizzie gathered that they hadn't been able to find her cousin. She nodded respectfully at them, and Rachel gave a feeble smile in return as the bride continued on, stopping just in front of the priest.

Elizabeth kissed her father's cheek, and somehow managed to resist clutching desperately at his arm as he took a step back. The music stopped, the crowd hushed, and she turned to gaze upon the pockmarked face of her future husband. Like a last act of defiance she smiled even wider, showing her pearly white teeth, and it began.

The priest cleared his throat. "Dearly beloved," he projected. His elderly voice was clear and unwavering and utterly emotionless. Elizabeth supposed he must have seen all manner of weddings here during his time, this one was hardly any different. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford and William Thomson Kelvin in holy matrimony. If anyone should know of any reason why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."

Elizabeth waited. She'd thought of many different scenarios in which somebody tried to stop this; her father, her mother, her friends. It didn't matter - despite her longing for someone to step forward, everyone remained silent and the priest moved on.

"Very well. Please repeat your vows in that manner of -"

"Stop."

There it was. That word - the one she thought she'd never hear. Elizabeth could hardly believe it. She turned gratefully to look at her rescuer, unsure who had spoken, and the crowd turned with her, whispering. A single figure was making their way into the aisle, and Elizabeth was stunned. It was the last person she had expected to speak.

"What...?" She asked, confused.

And the person looked furious.

"How dare you," they hissed. " _How **dare** you_. Look at what you've driven me to - _this is all your fault_."

It was all happening so fast. The whispers in the pews died down as everyone realised - this was no romantic gesture at all, not a declaration of love or a rescue attempt. A handgun was being aimed towards the couple at the altar, and suddenly this was going to be so much more than a scandalous wedding. It was about to be murder.

*

"You don't understand," Ciel said desperately. He was breathing too fast, his vision blurring. "Sebastian, don't do this - please -"

The boy took a step towards the church where Sebastian stood. He wiped at his eyes, feeling them burn, and the corpse reached out a hand.

"What's wrong?" Came that deep voice, sounding genuinely concerned and confused.

"This isn't what I want," Ciel began, gasping, trying to find the words to just _make_ him understand. "I know what I said before, but I thought - I mean, you must know by now that I -"

That was as far as he got. His words were cut off before he could even begin to explain what he was feeling, though it wasn't Sebastian that interrupted him. It was a gunshot, coming from right inside the church, and the sharp blast echoed around the churchyard, barely fading before Ciel threw himself towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments, I really appreciate it!


	8. Chapter 8

Bard, Mey-Rin and Finny blinked in the harsh light of the living world, peering up at the tall, stone building in front of them. They'd already checked Sebastian's house, with the Undertaker in tow, and they'd found it empty, a crumpled piece of paper resting on the floor with a tiny handwritten note squeezed underneath the text : ' _church_.'

So that's where they'd gone. The Undertaker had seemed to know exactly where it was, his ever-present smile growing even wider, and they'd all found themselves hurtling through darkness until their feet landed on cold, snowy ground.

The Undertaker was the only one that wasn't marvelling at the church, with its high, stained glass windows and frosted eaves. He strode past the other three and approached the church main entrance, only glancing behind when he was nearly at the double doors.

"Come on, then," he called impatiently, like a child getting held back from a toy store. "Don't stand on ceremony. We've got a wedding to crash!"

"... Do you really think they'd be _here_?" Bard asked, unsure. It all just seemed so strange; the silence was thick, only a single crow cawing from a nearby tree.

"Oh, they're here," the Undertaker assured them, reaching the doors and spreading his pale hand wide on the ornate wood.

That's when a loud cracking sound cut through everything, making them all jump. The crow took flight and they watched it go, listening to the echoes fade around them.

"Was that a _gunshot_?" Finny asked horrified.

"Sounded like it," Mey-Rin admitted, and Bard hummed his agreement.

"Oh, yes. Definitely the right place," the Undertaker grinned, and he pushed open the double doors with an eagerness that was slightly disturbing.

*

The gunshot was still ringing in Elizabeth's ears - white noise that only seemed to grow louder the longer she listened. She thought for a second that she must be dead, but that couldn't be true - if she was dead then her heart probably wouldn't be pounding this hard.

Something red caught her eye. A spreading pool of blood was inching towards the pure white hem of her dress. Next to it lay the body of the Baron Kelvin, face to the ground, blood darkening his suit to a sticky black.

"Wh - why ...?" She gasped, her voice sounding far away. Apart from a few screams and gasps, the crowd of onlookers had remained silent, frozen in their seats.

Charles Grey was still holding the gun high, his arm steady. He shifted it to the left, aiming it right at Elizabeth and loading another bullet into the chamber with a practiced click of his thumb.

" _Why_? You're asking me _why_?" He snarled. "You really are just a silly little idiot, aren't you?"

Something warm and wet trickled down Elizabeth's face, and she didn't know whether it was blood or tears. Dimly, she heard the sound of a door banging, something dark stirring in her peripheral vision, but all she could see was Grey's face sneering at her from behind the barrel of the gun.

Disgust was etched into his every feature, a harsh contrast to his usual detached amusement. "I didn't want to do this," he spat. "But you've forced my hand."

It happened as if in slow motion. There were footsteps running, people starting to stand in the pews, the figure of Charles Grey lighting up from behind as the main doors were thrown wide behind him.

And he pulled the trigger.

The bang didn't even register with Elizabeth this time - it was muffled behind the object slamming into her. She felt the air leave her lungs and she was thrown backwards, the high church ceiling spinning above her, stained glass windows blurring in a whirl of colour.

She stared at one as she lay there, clutching at her chest and waiting to die. But she didn't.

Someone else was standing where she had been just moments ago. Elizabeth squinted up from the floor, the breath wheezing in her chest, and it caught in her throat as she recognised them.

"Ciel?" She gasped and, as if on cue, he crumpled to the ground next to her. He barely even made a sound, so light and quiet that he might as well have been made out of paper.

She did scream then. So did others - bile rose in Elizabeth's throat as she scooted forwards, reaching towards her cousin. Her hand stopped midway, her fingers trembling. Ciel's left eye was wide and glassy, that familiar blue staring right at her, unseeing. The other eye no longer existed. It was just a round, red hole in his face, the chunks of flesh mixing with stark white shards of bone.

"Oh, god," she whimpered, and her vision began to narrow in on itself, like she was staring down a long, dark tunnel. Everything had taken on a dreamlike quality, and she only dimly realised that there was someone else crouching down next to her.

"Ciel," came a deep, choked voice. Elizabeth felt numb as she watched the man she'd met in her bedroom two nights ago fall apart in front of her.

Black hair hung limply in front of Sebastian's face. His jaw worked and his adam's apple bobbed. He scooped Ciel to his chest, supporting his limp body and pressing him close, dark blood smearing into his white shirt. Elizabeth averted her eyes, though she could still hear the choked little sobs and whimpers.

It was like all the other sounds in the room came back into focus at the same time. First there was a shout, then people talking, footsteps, and Elizabeth got shakily to her feet, ignoring the blood that now coated half her skirts.

"Put down the gun," someone was saying.

"Get away from me, Phipps. This is none of your business."

"No, I think it is my business. We are the Queen's guard - we aren't murderers."

"Hah. That's rich, coming from you."

Charles Phipps ignored the comment. He didn't have a gun, himself - just the sword that had been strapped to his hip, and he thrust it forward now. Grey laughed.

"How embarrassing - bringing a sword to a gunfight," he said manically, and took aim.

*

The Undertaker had been watching the show from the best seat in the house - just a few paces behind Charles Grey, where Mey-Rin, Finny and Bard stood with him in the aisle.

"What's going on?" Hissed Bard.

"Oh, look - there's Sebastian! And he's got ... oh... oh, no..." Mey-Rin was the first to realise what had happened, her glasses perched at the bottom of her nose so she could peer over them. She hastily pushed them up, squinting, as if the scene would somehow change if she looked hard enough.

"Is that..." Finny started, craning his neck, but he stopped short.

The reality of the situation was dawning on all of them. Finny made a small squeak and Bard placed a hand on his shoulder, unable to look away as Sebastian gently set Ciel down, rising steadily to his feet and fixing his blazing red eyes on Charles Grey.

"Oh, shit," said Bard, and the Undertaker cackled happily.

*

Sebastian strode right past Rachel and Vincent, who had broken free of the crowd and were rushing to their son's side. The corpse's face was like thunder, shoulders squared, height intimidating as he left bloody footprints on the church carpet. He paid no mind to Charles Phipps, barging right past him and addressing the man who had killed everything that ever mattered to him.

" _You_ ," he growled, and Grey actually took a step back.

"Who the hell are you?"

The gun changed position and a shot was fired into the corpse's chest. He didn't even flinch.

" _You killed him_." Sebastian's voice was rising, and the church had gone quiet again. Another shot was fired, this one sloppy and desperate, but Sebastian had reached Grey and he twisted the gun from his hand, tossing it uselessly aside.

Grey made a surprised noise, his hand flying to the sword at his belt, but there was no time to draw it from the scabbard. Sebastian's skeletal hand had already locked around the man's throat and it was squeezing, the pointed bone of his fingertips digging in and leaving dark indents.

"Sebastian," the Undertaker warned softly.

Grey rose slowly into the air, Sebastian lifting him with one hand. The corpse locked eyes with him as the man started to turn purple, his hands prying ineffectively at the bones.

"Sebastian," the Undertaker said again, this time louder. "The dead do not interfere with the living. Drop him."

Charles Grey gagged, the grip around his neck like a vice. The toes of his boots barely brushed the floor as he kicked.

" ** _Sebastian!"_**

The bony hand suddenly opened and Grey hit the ground, stumbling. His arm shot out as he fought to keep his balance, and he gasped for air with brutal, hoarse noises.

Sebastian watched for a moment, the eerie, red light in his eyes growing dim. "He isn't worth it," he said emotionlessly. He spun around without another word, passing a sobbing Rachel and shattered-looking Vincent as he returned to Ciel's side and carefully gathered the dead boy back into his arms.

*

Elizabeth wasn't scared anymore. Something fierce had risen in her chest as she watched Charles Grey regain his composure, standing up straight and massaging his own throat. There was such a smug look on his face; like this was all a game, and he was winning.

Elizabeth wasn't scared anymore, because she was furious.

She lifted her blood-stained skirts, feeling calmer than she'd ever felt in her life. Her footsteps were steady, despite the chaos that reigned around her. People were struggling to get to the exit, though no one seemed to want to pass the strange figures in the aisle, particularly the woman with the sword sticking out of her chest. People cowered down in their seats, others climbed over pews, and some even tried to get to her, but she held up a hand, coming to a stop in front of Grey.

"Stay back, Lady Elizabeth," said Phipps gallantly, drawing level with her and raising his sword at Grey for the second time.

Elizabeth disarmed him easily. Her tiny left hand went for his wrist and she twisted it, her right hand whipping the sword hilt away so quickly it looked like a blur. Now armed, she pointed the sword at Grey herself. "Maybe you're the one that should stay back, Phipps," she said confidently, and she was pleased to see the smile fade from Grey's face.

"You don't want to be doing this," said the murderer, and he drew his sword in turn.

"Oh, I really think I do," Elizabeth told him.

She struck first. It was like the sword was an extension of her arm - everything she'd ever learned rushed back to her in an instant, and she moved as gracefully as a ballerina. Grey blocked her, but only barely. Their swords met, and she whirled away again, striking from the left.

" _Fool_ ," Grey got out, dodging the blade. He launched an attack of his own, swiping at her, but she was too fast. "You don't even know... _ah_... what you're doing..."

Elizabeth spun in a circle, her skirts flaring, and it was like a perverse parallel of how she'd spun in front of the mirror earlier, giggling. She realised that maybe she _had_ been a fool then. But that seemed like a lifetime ago - she wasn't going to be a fool anymore.

He sword met Grey's again, the vibrations making her arm ache, but she held firm. She used all her strength to push Grey's sword aside, taking a bold step forward and causing him to take one back.

"Do I need to remind you," she said calmly, swiping at his belly and advancing again. "That you just killed two people in front of a church full of witnesses. And you're calling _me_ a fool? I think you have things backwards, Charles."

Grey's face was starting to turn red, a compliment to the purpling bruises that circled his throat. He snarled at Elizabeth, and she could feel the rage behind his movements. He struck at her with renewed violence, but he was getting careless.

It allowed Elizabeth to catch his shoulder on the next strike, ripping his shirt sleeve and causing a thin line of blood to well up.

There was no denying who the better swordsman was. It was obvious. Grey grimaced, holding his sword in a defensive position while Elizabeth rained in blow after blow. She was hardly even trying anymore, and Grey knew it.

"Do you have any idea what it's like," he bit out, a wild desperation in his voice. "To train. To work day after day, to live in a family like mine, and be beaten by a _woman_?!"

Elizabeth didn't know what to say to that, so she gave a low swing with the sword.

Grey jumped back, though he continued to talk at her. "My father would watch us spar when we were young, and you know what he would tell me?"

"Probably that you need to work on your footwork," Elizabeth informed him, and gave a neat little step to the side. She jabbed at Grey's ribs, and the point of her sword found its mark, though she hadn't put any real force behind the movement. The blade barely pierced the skin before Grey managed to twist away.

" _Ungh._ Don't get smart with me, you have _no_ idea. He used to tell me I was worthless, letting some little girl beat me. Every time you won, he made sure I'd _never_ forget it. I had to come to practice with broken toes once, do you remember? You asked me why I was walking so strange, but that didn't stop you. You won all three rounds that day without me scoring a single point. I used to be so scared of you."

"I don't think it was me you were scared of," Elizabeth told him, feinting to the left before striking from the right. Grey met her blade with his own.

"Nothing's ever your fault, is it?" He hissed. "You could have taken it easy on me that day, or the day I had a black eye, or the day my ribs were bruised. But you didn't. You looked always looked so proud of yourself, too, did you know that?"

Whatever Grey was doing, it was working. Elizabeth felt her focus slipping, the words drilling holes into her mind. Had she really done these awful things? How had she not _known_?

"It wasn't like that _,_ " she said defensively, almost missing a parry.

"Of course it was. And that's not even the best bit - see, my father told me that if I didn't make the guard I'd be disowned, I'd lose my inheritance, everything. Do you have any idea what that's _like_?" He sneered as he raised his arm, and he struck in such a volatile way that Elizabeth's wrist bent back in her haste to meet the blow. "Oh, that's right - you do," Grey said, and there was triumph in his eyes.

A sick realisation burned at the back of Elizabeth's mind, despite the pain in her wrist."Wait.... What are you saying?"

"What do you _think_ I'm saying?" Grey took a step forward. "You can't have it all, Lizzy. Your place in the guard. The perfect marriage. The perfect family."

" _You_..."

Grey was growing more confident on the offensive, his hand much steadier on the hilt of his sword. "Yes - see, I found out that they were going to give _you_ the spot on the guard. Congratulations - _hah_. With my father's reputation, it was only too easy for me to pull some strings. Money matters more than talent, which is something you'll _never_ understand. You should have seen your face the day that Brown told you the news - you looked like you were going to cry."

Elizabeth's hair had fallen free of the clip, and her curls swung as her sword deflected Grey's.

"It wasn't as funny as your father though," Grey continued. It was like he wanted some kind of recognition, the words filled with a sickening pride. "When they told him he was fired, I thought he was going to faint. I had to pay a few favours back for that one, but it was worth it. Nothing compares though - _nothing_ \- to your perfect little fiance... The first one, I mean - there were so many."

Elizabeth screamed with rage, throwing herself towards her opponent and smashing at his sword. "You petty... disgusting..."

Grey's eyes were wild, his cheeks pink. "He died so easily, you know - so soft, like sliding a knife through butter. I was going to kill his spare then, too, but he wasn't where he was supposed to be. Now I'm almost glad I didn't - the way he ran off and left you here? Hilarious! And then, when I suggested that Kelvin take his place, well I thought that would be the cherry on top of the cake."

Elizabeth was shaking as she deflected another hit. "You... You killed him," she gasped, and she wasn't even sure who she was talking about.

"And whose fault was that?" Grey snapped. "I sent you the most disgusting man I could think of, and you stood up there _smiling_? I suppose you were thinking of how rich he was. I couldn't have that."

"Just... because I looked _happy_?" Elizabeth could hardly believe it. "You really are crazy."

"I'm a lot of things," said Grey, "But it could be worse - I could be you. You may have taken my pride from me, but I took _so_ much more from you. Your perfect family, your money - you've lost everything. And what does that leave you with?" He snickered, bringing his sword down in a swooping arc.

The answer came to Elizabeth easily, a strange calmness settling over her as she realised. "Me," she said, and she danced out of the swords reach, spinning lightly under Grey's guard. The next blow landed square in his chest, but Elizabeth hadn't stabbed him - she'd kicked him, her leg graceful as she made the turn. Grey staggered back with wide eyes, and he would have fallen if he hadn't crashed right into somebody.

There was a stark moment of confusion. Grey made a choked noise and looked down, his pale hair swinging forward. Elizabeth took an uncertain step, and that was when she noticed the blood -it welled up slowly at first, surrounding the metallic object that jutted from his sternum, before it rushed down in rivulets, steadily soaking through the front of the guard's uniform.

"Oooh! Sorry!" Came an embarrassed voice from behind him.

The blade slid free from Grey's body as he sank onto his knees. The blood poured even faster as he did, and Mey-Rin grimaced awkwardly, glancing down at the red droplets that now clung to the sword still jutting from her own chest.

Elizabeth dropped her own sword. "Gr-Grey?"

He was on the floor now, shuddering.

"Somebody, help!" Lizzie rushed forward, reaching Grey and scrambling onto her hands and knees. Pressing a hand to the wound seemed pointless - she'd never seen so much blood in her life, it coated everything and filled her nose with the thick stench of rusted iron, making her gag.

"Move aside," someone said, and dimly she realised Phipps was next to her, and then Agni, and Wolfram, and a whole crowd of other people.

Lizzie felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and her father's voice floated down to her. "Come on, move away now. That's it."

She let herself be lead away, though she still struggled to see what was happening. There were just so many people now that the swords had stopped clashing - they were all talking, crowding the aisle, blocking her view. Her father was the only thing keeping her grounded, his presence steady amid the chaos.

*

At the back of the church, Mey-Rin gave the Undertaker a guilty look. "Sorry," she whispered. "I'm so bloody clumsy."

Nobody else was paying them much attention anymore, just a few side-glances as people blustered around the church.

"Hey, Mey didn't do anything wrong," Finny interjected. "She was just stood there, it wasn't like she was trying to interfere."

"Not that the bastard didn't deserve it," Bard added.

The other two nodded vehemently, and even the Undertaker didn't disagree.

"We'll just put this down to human error," the long-haired man said with a shrug.

*

"He's gone." Phipps got to his feet and stepped away from Grey's body before looking over at Elizabeth. "This wasn't your fault," he assured her.

"He's _dead_?" She asked in a weak voice.

Francis had been watching everything from nearby, and she moved now to join her husband behind Elizabeth. Both of them stood there like sentries, one hand each on Lizzie's shoulders. "Of course it wasn't her fault," Francis snapped at Phipps. "You were the one working with him - am I supposed to believe you knew nothing of this?"

"It's no one's fault, Mother," said Lizzie, feeling exhausted.

"And look at the mess we're in now," Francis continued, waving her free hand.  "No wedding, probably a huge cleaning bill. Who's going to pay for all of this?"

"It'll be alright, dear," Alexis said comfortingly, but Francis shrugged him off.

"You know, I have a great-uncle in France who lives in a large estate. Perhaps I could write to him, see if he knows anyone willing to marry..."

Elizabeth jerked away from her mother as if she'd been stung. "Are you _joking_?" She spat.

The Midford daughter had never once raised her voice to either of her parents. Francis stared at her in shock. "Watch your tone," she hissed, aware of the guests that were starting to stare.

" _No, I will not_. I've been quiet for far too long."

The body of Charles Grey wasn't even cold yet, but it was already receding to the back of everyone's minds as they watched Lady Elizabeth raise her chin, looking utterly terrifying in her bloody wedding dress.

"I have catered to your whims for far too long, Mother," the young woman said, and in that moment she looked far older than her nineteen years. "I've been the perfect Lady, smiling sweetly, always courteous and gracious. Well, that's over now. I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and I am deciding that I won't be marrying _anyone_. Not until _I_ choose to."

Francis's eyes were practically bulging. She looked around and spoke under her voice, "But the money..."

"Is not my responsibility," Elizabeth told her with finality. "If it's still a problem though, I'd be happy to send you part of my wages when I become a member of the Queen's guard."

Alexis stepped in then, hesitant in the face of his daughter's wrath. "The Queen's -" he blustered. "But darling - they won't consider a previous failed applicant, you know that."

Lizzie's blue eyes met her father's, and her expression softened. "I'm going to join the Queen's guard, Father, whether you and Mother like it or not. I know that I'm good enough - I'll make them listen to me. If you want something, you need to fight for it. Not -" she looked down at her ruined wedding dress. "Not give up, like this. That's not who I want to be."

Francis wasn't convinced. "You aren't being realistic, Elizabeth," she said sternly, shaking her head.

"Actually, she is."

Elizabeth's words had had a sobering effect on Alexis. He looked at his daughter like he was seeing her for the first time, his eyes shining, and Elizabeth gave her father a grateful smile as he continued.

"I think our daughter has just taught us something that we should have realised ourselves. We can't solve our problems by relying on others, and we never should have tried. I too will be fighting to regain my old position - I'm sure they'll be much more lenient after Mr. Grey's admission of bribery."

Francis looked from her daughter to her husband and back. "But he's _dead_ ," she insisted, as if trying to find any reason that she could still be right. "He can't admit to anything if he's dead."

"Uhh, actually..." Phipps called over, interrupting the family feud.

"What?!" Francis demanded, though it became obvious when they all looked over.

Charles Grey had sat up. The surrounding group of people had all taken a step back, watching with confusion as the man peered around. He was deathly pale, all the colour drained from his lips, and his uniform was so awash with blood that the previous white of his shirt was no longer visible.

Agni took a brave step forward, lowering himself to one knee. "Charles? Can you hear me?"

Grey paid no attention, his eyes seeming glassy and unfocused. He slowly got to his feet, no longer bothered by the wound in his chest.

"What...?" He tried to ask, the air wheezing out of his punctured lungs.

"We'll be taking this from here."

The Undertaker strode forward and took Grey's arm, turning him towards the back of the church where Bard cracked his knuckles eagerly.

"Wait - that man needs a hospital," Agni insisted, rising to his feet and catching at the Undertaker's sleeve.

The Undertaker looked amused. "Oh, he's quite beyond that, I assure you," he said. "We'll be going _down_ from here, if you get my meaning."

He pointed with one long finger and gave a wild cackle, throwing his head back to reveal the jagged scars that criss-crossed his face.

An unsettled whisper went through the crowd as people began to realise the truth about the uninvited wedding guests. The sword in Mey-Rin's chest, Bard's blackened, burnt clothes... There was no longer any denying what they were.

"So, the dead walk among us," Agni murmured, and he let go of the Undertaker's sleeve. "These are troubling times indeed."

"Oh, _you_ don't have to worry," the Undertaker told him cheerfully, and he gave Grey a little shake. "This guy probably should, though."

"What?" Said Grey, and he was dragged the rest of the way over to where Bard, Mey-Rin, and Finny were waiting.

*

Elizabeth had known it was possible for the dead to walk the earth - after all, she'd met the man that claimed to be Ciel's husband, seen his skeletal hand, his unnatural pallor. However, with all the commotion, she'd hardly given it a thought; everything had just happened so fast.

She felt stupid that she hadn't realised it sooner.

"Ciel," she blurted.

"Oh - of course. Someone should -" her father began gently, but Elizabeth shook her head.

"No - _Ciel_. Is he awake? He saved my life."

Soma and Sieglinde had come to linger nearby, and the Indian man gave a stifled sob, turning to look over at the altar.

The Phantomhives were still up there, Rachel's face buried in her husband's chest, her small frame shaking. A few other guests were milling around, obviously trying to help, but no one seemed to want to approach the bereft man with the skeletal hand who was holding onto Ciel's body like he'd never let it go.

"What should we do?" Sieglinde asked, turning to her friend like Elizabeth held all the answers.

For once though, she did. "We wait," Elizabeth said calmly, and the others nodded.

*

Sebastian felt like he was dying all over again. No, worse - at least when he'd died, he didn't feel like he was losing anything important. He'd still held out hope that he would find his happy ending, even after death, but this was different.

He'd found his happy ending, but he hadn't been able to keep it. First he'd given it away, with the hope that Ciel would live a long and happy life, and then it had been snatched from him completely. All of Sebastian's hope had gone with it, the guilt threatening to overwhelm him: after all, if he hadn't brought Ciel here in the first place, his life would never have been taken.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Sebastian whispered, bringing Ciel's frail body closer to his chest and kissing his head. He hadn't paid any attention to the chaos in the aisle - nothing else mattered to him except the boy in his arms, the warmth leaching out of him, the blue veins beginning to stand out under the pale skin.

 A tear fell from the tip of Sebastian's nose and dropped into Ciel's hair. It stayed there for a moment, the perfect dewdrop, before sinking in and darkening the strands. Another one fell, and then another, and Sebastian couldn't even bring himself to be surprised. He'd thought that his tear ducts had dried up long ago, but apparently he still had some tears to shed. He buried his face in the boy's hair, uncaring about the blood that smeared onto his face, and he finally let out a muffled, broken sob.

"You're getting me all wet," said a small voice next to his ear.

Sebastian jumped. He moved his head back and sniffled, unable to meet that single blue eye. He'd known this would happen, of course - that he'd have to face Ciel sooner or later, but now that the moment had come, he just didn't know what to say. "I'm so s-sorry," was all he could manage, the words sounding thick in his throat.

"Don't be."

"-I'm sorry, this is my fault -"

"Are you listening to me?"

"-My fault -"

"You're such an idiot, you know that?!"

Sebastian gave a small hiccup and wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve, finally looking Ciel in the face. The wound was terrible - a gaping hole where the boy's right eye should be. It didn't matter. Sebastian still thought he was beautiful.

"I'm so -" Sebastian started, but Ciel cut him off.

"Would you stop? It's not your fault. Urgh." Ciel was leaning heavily on Sebastian, but he was trying to sit up now, one hand on Sebastian's shoulder to steady himself. He blinked, and a tiny frown wrinkled his nose. "What - what happened?"

Ciel was confused. The last thing he remembered was something hot slamming into his face, and then someone holding him. He blinked his single eye and brought a hand up to his face.

"Don't," Sebastian said, catching at it. His bony fingers twined with Ciel's. "Do you remember anything?"

"Yeah. I don't know."

Sebastian held Ciel's hand tighter. "You died," he said gently. "That man, the one with the gun. He was going to shoot your fiance, but you saved her. She's fine, see? She's just over there."

Ciel glanced at all the people in the aisle and noticed that most of them were looking right back at him. He turned his face away, back into the comfort of Sebastian's embrace.

"I know. I mean, that's what I thought. It really happened, then."

"You must have loved her very much," Sebastian said gently.

It took a moment for those words to sink in. Ciel was still wondering how he could possibly be dead -he wasn't in any pain, he could move; he even felt okay, just a bit shaky. And then there was this man, holding him close like he meant the world. It was all a bit too much to process, but even amongst the confusing barrage of thoughts, a memory came back.

_Sebastian outside in the snow, telling him they weren't married. His deep voice wavering as he continued: "_ _Which leaves you free to move on and marry your true love. Don't worry about me - I'll never forget you, and everything you've given me. You set me free, Ciel, and now I can do the same for you."_

"You thought I loved her," Ciel realised.

Sebastian tilted his head and nodded slowly, his eyebrows drawing together. From this close up, Ciel could see the tears that still clung to his eyelashes.

"You really are a complete idiot, aren't you?" Ciel said fondly, and without even thinking he tipped his chin up, leaned forward, and kissed him.

Sebastian's lips weren't as cold as Ciel expected, but they were soft. Neither of them moved, and Ciel realised he had no idea what he was doing. All he could think was that _Sebastian's mouth was on his_ , and he pushed harder, nudging at Sebastian's lips, tilting his head, and that's when he felt him move.

Sebastian parted his lips slowly, as though if he moved too fast the moment would be taken away. He let Ciel feel him, gave him the chance to back away, but the boy didn't move. Ciel only moved his own lips awkwardly, trying to kiss, and all thoughts of hopelessness were driven right from Sebastian's mind.

The older corpse couldn't help it anymore. He couldn't hold back, and there was no point in trying. He pulled at Ciel with a fierce desperation, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other still holding his hand tightly between them. His lips pressed hard against Ciel's, their teeth knocking together, and it was inexperienced and clumsy, but it was perfect.

Ciel jerked when Sebastian sucked on his lower lip. The bones of the man's fingertips were digging into Ciel's hand, he was squeezing so hard. Ciel dropped his jaw, letting Sebastian do whatever he wanted, loving how wet his lips were, how his silky hair tickled his forehead. He let out a breath through his nose, feeling lightheaded, and then he hesitantly pushed his tongue forward.

Sebastian met it eagerly. There was a small, eager sound in his throat as their tongues met for the first time, and it felt like an electric current sparking between them. Sebastian's whole body tingled with it, and he felt truly alive and awake for the first time in years. He licked along Ciel's tongue, feeling its softness, loving the way it squirmed against him. It curved up and ran along Sebastian's palate, and he shuddered, guiding Ciel's head so that he could return the favour. He swiped along the back of the boy's perfect teeth before pushing against his tongue again, and he never wanted the kiss to end.

It had to, though. Ciel was the first to pull away, but only barely. Their noses still bumped together as he spoke. "I love you," was all he said, but the simple words brought Sebastian to even higher, more dizzying heights.

"I love you too," he gasped, clutching at Ciel like he would fall if he didn't hold on tight enough.

"You're still really stupid, though."

 Ciel smiled, his single eye crinkling with it, and Sebastian found himself letting out a shaky laugh as well.

"I must be," he said, just loud enough for Ciel to hear. "I didn't even realise..."

" _Obviously_ ," Ciel told him, and kissed him again. It was just a chaste peck on the corner of Sebastian's mouth, but he still felt completely exhilarated by it.

" **Ahem**."

Somebody nearby coughed. This entire time Ciel had forgotten there was anyone else in the room, but he lurched back when he remembered, though he still held fast to Sebastian's hand.

"Terribly sorry to interrupt," the voice came again, and Ciel noticed the priest that stood behind them.

"Oh - no, that's - um -" He would have flushed bright red if his skin wasn't so deathly pale.

The priest didn't seem to care. He looked utterly unfazed by all of the day's events, his wrinkled face set in a bored expression. "Please," he said, holding up a hand. "I only wanted to ask how long this is going to take. It doesn't seem like you'll be needing my services anymore, so perhaps you can all move along when you're ready."

"Of course," Sebastian said politely. "If you could just give us a moment."

The priest nodded curtly, and he turned his face away to give the couple a facsimile of privacy.

Sebastian's attention was back on Ciel, and he raised his flesh hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind the boy's ear. "Are you alright?" He asked softly, but Ciel's mind was elsewhere.

"His... Services," Ciel said to himself.

"Pardon?"

Ciel looked up, one blue eye meeting two red ones, and suddenly he'd never been more sure of anything. "Sebastian - I know what I want to do, now. I want to marry you," he said seriously, "for real this time. Will you?"

The answer came with no hesitation. "Of course," Sebastian told him, a tremor to his deep voice. "If you're sure then it would be the highest honour, the deepest pleasure - I would like nothing more -"

The priest rolled his eyes as he listened to the couple's profound endearments. It looked like he was going to have to work late after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my amazing beta, nerdythangs, and everyone who has been commenting and sending encouragement. You guys are awesome!


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